GIFT  OF 


University  of  California  •  Berkeley 


THE  GROVE   PLAYS 

OF  THE 
BOHEMIAN   CLUB 


Of  Volume s  /,  //,  and  III  of  Ms  Collected  Edition  of 

The  gROFE  TLATS  of  the  BOHEMIA  W^CLUB 

thirty-one  sets  ha\>e  been  printed  on  hand-made  paper , 

of  which  this  set  is 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

THE    APPARITION    OF    CUCHULAINN 


The  GROVE  PLAYS  of 
THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

EDITED  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION  BY 
PORTER  GARNETT 

VOLUME  II 


AUTHORS 

H.  MORSE  STEPHENS         CHARLES  K.  FIELD 
PORTER  GARNETT    JOSEPH  D.  REDDING 

COMPOSERS 

WALLACE  A.  SABIN         W.  H.  McCOY 
EDWARD  G.  STRICKLEN        HENRY  HADLEY 

ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

MAYNARD  DIXON 

AND  FROM  PHOTOGRAPHS 


SAN  FRANCISCO:  PRINTED  FOR  THE 
BOHEMIAN  CLUB  AT  THE  PRESS  OF 
THE  H.  S.  CROCKER  COMPANY,  I  p  I  8 


COPYRIGHT,   1918 
BY  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


CONTENTS 

ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA  (1909)           ......  3 

THE  CAVE  MAN  (1910)           .......  83 

THE  GREEN  KNIGHT  (1911)             ......  153 

THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN  (1912)     ......  219 


[v] 


O 


LIST   OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 


ILLUSTRATIONS  IW^COLOT^ 

ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

The  Apparition  of  Cuchulainn 

THE  CAVE  MAN 

The  New  Weapon  ..... 

THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

The  Green  Knight,  Archolon,  and  the  Prince     . 

THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

Pan  and  Orion        ...... 

FROM  <PHOTOgR4PHS 
A  SCENE  FROM  "ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA" 
A  SCENE  FROM  "THE  CAVE  MAN" 
A  SCENE  FROM  "THE  GREEN  KNIGHT"   . 
A  SCENE  FROM  "THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN" 


Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 
•  -  83 


•  '53 

.  219 

FACING  PAGE 

.  48 

•  136 

.  1 80 

.  248 


[vii] 


THE  PLAYS 


THE  SEVENTH  GROVE  PLAY 

[PERFORMED  ON  THE  SEVENTH  NIGHT  OF  AUGUST,  1909] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

*A  Forest  Tlay 


BY 

H.  MORSE  STEPHENS 

WITH  A  NOTE  ON  THE  MUSIC 
BY  THE  COMPOSER 

WALLACE  A.  SABIN 


H.  MORSE  STEPHENS 
SIRE 


AUTHOR'S  PREFACE 

THE  LITERATURE  on  the  life  and  work  of  St.  Patrick  is 
very  large  and  steadily  increasing.  Noteworthy  among 
the  books  hitherto  published  about  him  for  devotional, 
literary,  or  historical  treatment  are  the  lives  by  Miss  M. 
F.  Cusack  (the  Nun  of  Kenmare);  by  the  Most  Rev. 
Dr.  Healy,  Archbishop  of  Tuam ;  by  the  Rev.  Father  John 
Morris,  S.  J.;  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  J.  D.  Todd,  and  by  Pro- 
fessor J.  B.  Bury.  But  these  biographies  all  depend  for 
their  historical  detail  upon  the  two  authentic  Patrician 
documents,  the  Confession  of  Patrick  and  the  Letter 
against  Coroticus.  These  documents  have  often  been 
translated  and  reprinted,  most  conveniently  by  Dr. 
Whitley  Stokes  in  "The  Tripartite  Life  of  St.  Patrick" 
(Rolls  Series,  1887)  and  by  Dr.  E.  Hogan  in  the  Analecta 
Bollandiana,  1882-83.  Though  the  earliest  MSS.  of 
these  documents  date  from  the  first  half  of  the  ninth  cen- 
tury, they  were  undoubtedly  extant  in  the  sixth  century, 
and  Professor  Bury  has  triumphantly  proved  their  authen- 
ticity as  genuine  writings  of  St.  Patrick  against  the  criti- 
cisms of  Professors  Zimmer  and  Pflugk-Harttung. 

In  this  grove  play  the  "Confession  of  Patrick"  has  been 
followed  literally  in  the  speeches  of  St.  Patrick  in  the  first 
scene.  The  deductions  of  Professor  Bury,  as  to  the  birth- 
place of  St.  Patrick,  the  chronology  of  his  life,  the  province 
of  his  servitude,  his  relations  with  Palladius,  the  nature  of 
his  mission,  the  probability  of  the  events  at  Tara,  his  dis- 
putes with  the  druids  and  his  personality,  have  been 
closely  followed,  and  I  must  express  my  deep  obligations 
which  I  cannot  state  on  every  page,  to  Professor  Bury's 

[5] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

"The  Life  of  St.  Patrick  and  his  Place  in  History/*  London 
and  New  York,  The  Macmillan  Company,  1905. 

It  would  be  pedantic  to  give  a  long  list  of  the  books  that 
have  been  laid  under  contribution  for  the  argument  and 
text  of  this  grove  play,  or  to  defend  in  a  work,  which  is 
avowedly  imaginative,  though  based  on  historical  sources 
and  deductions,  my  views  on  early  Irish  civilization  and 
religion.  The  antiquity  of  the  legends  of  St.  Patrick,  such 
as  those  of  the  lighting  of  the  paschal  fire  on  the  Beltane 
feast,  of  the  contest  with  the  druids  and  of  the  raising 
of  the  ghost  of  Cuchulainn,  is  very  great,  and  they  are 
characteristic  of  the  centuries  of  the  spread  of  Christianity, 
in  which  they  arose.  The  difficulties,  which  St.  Patrick  is 
represented  as  meeting  and  the  way  in  which  he  met  them, 
can  be  illustrated  from  the  lives  of  many  missionaries. 
The  story  of  the  spread  of  Christianity  under  the  wing  of 
Rome  is  the  most  important  subject  in  the  history  of 
modern  civilization,  and  I  make  no  apology  in  dealing  with 
it  in  a  serious  vein  at  a  gathering  of  the  flower  of  the  most 
modern  and  most  recently  founded  civilization  in  the 
world,  that  of  California.  The  Bohemian  Club  of  San 
Francisco  stands  for  the  most  characteristic  manifestation 
of  this  most  western,  American,  Californian  civilization 
in  its  grove  play,  and  to  the  members  of  the  Club  at  their 
annual  outing,  the  traditional  "High  Jinks,"  this  study  of 
the  life  and  work  of  the  patron  saint  of  Ireland,  the  home 
of  the  most  western,  European,  Celtic  civilization,  is  now 
offered. 

The  form  followed  is  that  of  recent  grove  plays  with  the 
exception  that  Care  is  not  symbolized  and  that  a  "Victim 
of  Care"  is  substituted.  For  this  bold  departure  from 
Grove  Play  traditions  I  am  alone  responsible  and  I  hope 
the  veterans  of  the  Bohemian  Club  will  be  lenient  to  me 
for  thus  transgressing.  Mr.  Porter  Garnett  has  shown  the 
trend  of  the  development  of  the  grove  plays  in  his  ad- 
mirable book  "The  Bohemian  Jinks,  a  Treatise,"  San 

[6] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Francisco,  The  Bohemian  Club,  1908,  and  I  have  but 
harked  back  to  the  idea  set  forth  by  Dr.  Arnold  in  his 
High  Jinks  of  1901,  "The  Enigma  of  Life,"  the  first,  which 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  witnessing.  In  an  attempt  to  get  the 
form  and  rhythm  of  Irish  songs  I  have  in  "The  Song  of 
Connaught"  deliberately  imitated  Lionel  Johnson's  "To 
Morfydd"  and  in  "The  Song  of  Ulster"  Moira  O'Neill's 
"A  Broken  Song,"  both  reprinted  in  "A  Little  Garland  of 
Celtic  Verse,"  Portland,  Maine,  T.  B.  Mosher,  1907. 

Last  I  must  thank  a  crowd  of  collaborators  for  their 
assistance.  The  whole  Bohemian  Club  seems  to  have 
stretched  out  its  hands  to  help,  as  was  to  be  expected  from 
a  body  of  men,  to  whom  club  membership  means  a  closer 
bond  of  friendship  than  exists  in  other  clubs.  But  my 
special  thanks  are  due  to  the  last  and  present  boards  of 
directors,  and  to  their  respective  jinks  committees,  who 
have  given  ungrudging  and  unstinted  help.  I  cannot 
mention  the  individual  actors  and  singers,  who  have  given 
liberally  their  time  and  best  efforts  to  make  the  play  a 
success,  but  I  can  never  forget  their  kindness,  nor  the 
valuable  aid  their  experience  has  afforded  to  me.  The 
music  of  my  friend,  Mr.  Wallace  Sabin,  is  worthy  of  the 
theme,  and  the  club  will  surely  recognize  the  talent  of  the 
composer,  though  I  alone  can  know  the  vast  amount  of 
care  and  labor  he  has  expended;  as  far  as  the  songs  and 
choruses  are  concerned  he  deserves  all  the  credit,  as  I  have 
been  but  the  librettist  to  his  musical  invention.  Mr. 
Frank  Mathieu  has  devoted  his  patience  and  energy  to  the 
work  of  giving  dramatic  value  to  the  first  attempt  of  a 
novice  in  the  art  of  dramatic  composition  and  the  merit  of 
such  stage-craft  as  there  may  be  in  this  grove  play  is 
entirely  due  to  him.  Mr.  Edward  J.  Duffey  has  handled  the 
lighting  upon  the  hillside  with  the  peculiar  skill,  which 
is  his  own,  and  has  shown  positive  genius  in  elaborating 
new  means  to  give  full  impressiveness  to  the  unique  stage, 
which  the  Bohemian  Club  possesses  among  the  redwoods. 

[7] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Mr.  George  Lyon  is  responsible  for  the  mechanical  effec- 
tiveness of  the  stage  setting.  To  my  dear  friends  and 
colleagues  at  the  Academy  of  Pacific  Coast  History  and 
the  University  of  California,  Mr.  F.  J.  Teggart  and  Mr. 
Porter  Garnett,  I  am  indebted  for  constant  aid  and  sym- 
pathy; the  former  has  placed  his  encyclopaedic  knowledge 
and  daring  originality  of  thought  and  feeling  freely  at  my 
service ;  the  latter  has  been  my  guide  from  the  length  of  his 
experience  of  the  Grove  and  the  mastery  of  its  mysteries 
and  possibilities  in  multitudinous  details,  and  in  particular 
has  designed  the  costumes  for  the  play  and  superintended 
the  production  of  this  book ;  without  their  loving  care  and 
encouragement  this  play  would  never  have  been  produced. 
And  last  I  must  make  acknowledgment  of  my  debt  to  Dr. 
John  Wilson  Shiels,  good  friend,  kind  physician,  and  past 
president  of  the  Bohemian  Club,  whose  dramatic  insight 
suggested  the  human  interest  in  the  play,  when  it  was  first 
sketched  out  to  him  in  conversation,  and  whose  suggestion 
of  the  climax  gives  to  it  whatever  dramatic  value  it  may 
possess. 

H.  MORSE  STEPHENS. 


[8] 


ARGUMENT 

IN  THE  year  432  A.D.,  the  news  spread  over  Ireland  that  a 
band  of  missionaries  from  continental  Europe  had 
landed  to  preach  the  gospel  of  Christianity,  headed  by  a 
Briton,  named  Patricius  or  Patrick,  who  had  been  con- 
secrated a  bishop  for  that  purpose  in  Gaul.  The  Christian 
religion  was  already  known  in  the  southern  Province  of 
Munster  through  British  slaves  and  captives  in  war,  and 
in  the  previous  year  a  certain  Palladius  had  been  desig- 
nated by  Pope  Celestine  for  the  correction  of  the  Pelagian 
heresy  among  them,  but  he  had  died  in  Leinster  shortly 
after  arriving  upon  his  mission.  At  the  news  of  the  land- 
ing of  Patrick,  the  High  King  of  all  Ireland,  has  summoned 
the  kings  or  chiefs  of  the  kingdoms  of  Ireland  to  meet  at 
the  holy  Hill  of  Tara  in  the  Meath  to  consider  the  way  in 
which  the  Christian  missionaries  should  be  received. 

The  condition  of  Ireland  in  432  was  a  condition  of  tribal 
warfare.  It  was  true  that  each  of  the  provinces  recognized 
a  sort  of  supreme  chief  or  king,  and  that  these  kings 
generally  elected  at  this  time  as  high  king  or  ardrighy  the 
King  of  the  Meath,  the  central  province,  in  which  the 
sacred  Hill  of  Tara  was  situated.  But  the  powers  of  the 
high  king  were  very  limited,  and  he  presided,  rather  than 
ruled  over  Ireland.  Occasionally  the  kings  all  met  at  Tara 
to  discuss  national  questions,  but  the  decisions  taken  by 
the  council  were  not  binding,  and  the  high  king  or  ardrigb 
had  no  power  to  enforce  them.  Such  a  council  has  been 
called  to  discuss  the  preaching  of  St.  Patrick,  and  this  is 
the  moment  chosen  for  the  action  of  the  grove  play.1  The 

1  "Now  it  was  a  custom  of  the  High  Kings  to  hold  a  great  celebration,  called  the 
Feast  of  Tara,  to  which  the  under-kings  were  invited.  It  was  an  opportunity  for 
discussing  the  common  affairs  of  the  realm."  — Bury,  p.  112. 

[9] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

of  Tara  was  surrounded  by  temporary  booths  and 
each  king  of  a  province  arrived,  attended  by  a  large  body 
of  retainers.  The  ardrigb>  King  of  Meath,  presided  and 
prepared  the  meeting  place  and  the  necessary  banquets. 
The  ruins  of  the  old  banqueting  hall,  the  only  permanent 
building  at  Tara,  are  still  to  be  seen. 

The  kings  of  the  five  provinces  of  Ireland  exercised  as 
little  power  over  the  tribes  within  their  limits,  as  the  high 
king  exercised  over  them.  Each  tribe  or"  sept"  was  apolitical 
unit,  and  had  its  own  laws  and  customs,  and  the  different 
tribes  were  always  fighting  against  each  other  and  against 
the  king  of  the  province.  The  power  of  each  king  and 
tribal  chieftain  depended  on  his  personal  qualities,  and  the 
custom  of  "Tanistry,"  by  which  a  successor  to  each  king 
and  tribal  chieftain  was  chosen  at  the  same  time  as  the 
actual  ruler,  provided  an  endless  opportunity  for  rebellion 
and  civil  war.  While  the  kings  and  chieftains  were  the 
rulers  in  peace  and  the  leaders  in  war,  the  most  important 
persons  next  to  them  in  the  kingdoms  and  tribes  were  the 
"brehons"  or  judges.  These  officials  preserved  the  laws  of 
the  tribes; — whence  the  old  Irish  laws  are  known  as  the 
"Brehon  Laws."  The  druids  were  rather  soothsayers  and 
diviners  than  priests,  and  they  expounded  the  official  re- 
ligion of  the  Irish  people.  The  old  Irish  literature  fre- 
quently describes  their  religious  controversies  with  St. 
Patrick,  and  therefore  much  of  the  dispute  with  Patrick  in 
this  grove  play  has  been  put  into  the  mouths  of  the  brehons 
and  druids,  rather  than  into  the  mouths  of  the  kings,  who 
were  rather  rulers  and  warriors. 

Ireland  had  never  been  conquered  by  the  Romans  and 
had  never  been  part  of  the  Roman  Empire,  and  therefore 
had  neither  roads  nor  cities  nor  commerce  nor  Christianity 
in  the  fifth  century  after  Christ.  Its  organization  was 
purely  tribal;  its  civilization  was  purely  pastoral;  its  re- 
ligion was  purely  nature-worship.  It  represented  the 
untouched  development  of  Celtic  life,  Celtic  literature  and 

[10] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Celtic  religion.  Elsewhere,  in  Spain,  Gaul,  and  Britain, 
Celtic  life  had  been  destroyed  or  modified  by  the  Roman 
conquest,  and  what  was  left  of  Celtic  ideals  and  Celtic 
customs  in  Cornwall,  Wales,  Galway,  and  the  High- 
lands of  Scotland,  was  more  or  less  affected  by  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  Roman  Empire.  So  from  Irish  literature 
alone  can  be  obtained  an  idea  of  the  unaffected  Celtic  life 
and  religion.  But  the  remains  of  Irish  literature  that  have 
come  down  to  us,  such  as  the  Book  of  Kells,  the  Book  of 
Armagh,  the  Book  of  Lismore  and  the  Book  of  the  Dun 
Cow,  were  all  put  together  after  the  acceptance  of  Christi- 
anity by  the  Irish  people,  and  it  is  therefore  difficult  to 
pick  out  the  unadulterated  truth  about  the  life  and  religion 
of  the  Irish  people  in  pre-Christian  days.  Our  best  source 
for  their  religion  is  in  the  legends  of  St.  Patrick  and  of  the 
way  in  which  he  converted  the  Irish  to  Christianity.  Of 
these  legends  free  use  has  been  made  in  the  grove  play, 
especially  in  the  story  of  the  paschal  fire  and  of  the  appear- 
ance of  the  ghost  of  Cuchulainn.  Our  best  scource  for  a 
knowledge  of  the  early  Irish  life  is  in  the  Brehon  Laws, 
and  these  have  been  drawn  upon  for  the  general  setting. 

The  early  Irish  religion  seems  to  have  been  pure  nature- 
worship.  Like  other  races  in  the  pastoral  stage  of  civili- 
zation, the  Irish  were  terrified  by  the  forces  of  nature,  by 
the  sun  and  the  thunder,  by  the  succession  of  the  seasons 
and  of  night  to  day,  and  they  worshiped  the  sun,  the 
fruitful  earth,  which  gave  pasture  to  their  cattle,  their  sole 
source  of  wealth,  and  the  trees  and  bushes  and  green  grass. 
They  had  hardly  got  to  the  stage  of  conceiving  a  god  of 
nature  behind  the  powers  of  nature,  nor  had  they  gone  far 
on  the  road  to  worshiping  moral  and  physical  qualities. 
Though  they  did  not  actually  worship  ancestors,  they  yet 
revered  the  memory  of  heroes,  and  gave  them  superhuman 
powers,  as  in  the  stories  of  Fingal  and  Cuchulainn.  Of  a 
different  type  was  their  reverence  for  the  memory  of 
historic  heroes,  such  as  Cormac  Mac  Art,  the  mythical 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

lawgiver  of  Minister,  round  whose  name  had  gathered 
tales  of  legislative  wisdom,  and  Niall  of  the  Nine  Hostages, 
the  warrior  leader  who  had  harried  Roman  Britain. 

The  treatment  of  the  five  kings,  the  five  druids  and  the 
five  brehons  is  purely  imaginative,  but  it  is  based  upon 
certain  historical  characteristics  of  the  pre-Christian 
people  of  Ireland.  The  most  beautiful  poetry  of  early  Ire- 
land is  of  Ulster  origin.  The  stories  of  the  Red  Branch, 
the  songs  of  nature  poetry,  the  poetical  tales  of  warfare, 
the  mysterious  legends  of  tribal  sleep,  all  bear  witness  to 
the  effect  of  the  wild  scenery  of  northern  Ireland  upon  a 
poor  and  poetical  race  of  mountaineers  and  seafarers.  For 
this  reason,  the  Brehon  and  Druid  from  Oriel,  one  of  the 
three  kingdoms  of  Ulster,  are  represented  as  enthusiasts 
with  a  poetical  love  of  nature,  with  a  fervid  adoration  of 
the  old  religion,  the  old  gods  and  the  old  heroes,  and  with  a 
shuddering  horror  at  the  idea  of  worshiping  "a  dead 
man."  Both  of  them  and  the  King  of  Oriel  are  represented 
as  belonging  to  the  straight-haired,  black-haired  type  of 
Celtic  Irishman,  full  of  mysticism  and  poetry,  and  to  one 
of  them  is  assigned  a  religious  Irish  song.  Munster,  the 
southern  province  of  Ireland,  is  contrasted  with  Ulster. 
Munster  abounds  in  good  pasturage  and  is  rich  in  fat 
cattle ;  the  price  of  butter  is  still  fixed  in  Cork  market ;  and 
the  man  from  Munster  with  his  rich  Cork  brogue  is  the 
typical  Irish  humorist.  Therefore  the  King  and  the 
Brehon  and  Druid  of  Munster  are  represented  as  jolly,  red- 
haired,  corpulent  Irish  Celts;  the  Brehon  has  a  drinking 
song;  the  King  tries  good-naturedly  to  stop  all  trouble; 
they  are  good-natured,  irresponsible  and  full  of  fun.  They 
are  horrified  at  the  ascetic  side  of  Patrick's  teaching — 
no  more  fun,  drink  and  jollity.  While  Ulster  shivers  at 
replacing  the  worship  of  beautiful  living  things  of  nature 
by  the  worship  of  a  dead  man,  Munster  shrinks  from  giv- 
ing up  the  joys  of  life  for  self-denial  and  fasting  and  prayer. 
Leinster,  the  eastern  province,  represents  political,  Celtic 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Ireland.  Its  closer  touch  with  Wales  and  Britain  caused 
the  Leinster  king  to  fear  in  Christianity  not  the  religion 
nor  the  asceticism,  but  the  overthrow  of  the  old  tribal  life 
and  government.  Christianity  in  continental  Europe  had 
associated  itself  with  the  Roman  government;  the  Pope  at 
Rome  supported  settled  civilization;  obedience  and  dis- 
cipline were  the  key-notes  of  the  Roman  Church ;  Patrick 
brought  his  mission  from  Rome;  and  Christianity  would 
mean  settled  law  instead  of  ancient  custom,  and  it  would 
also  mean  a  hierarchy  of  ecclesiastical  and  civil  offici  als  in 
the  place  of  the  old  individual  freedon  under  patriarchal 
leadership.  This  is  made  the  basis  of  the  opposition  of  the 
King  of  Leinster  to  Patrick's  preaching. 

But  the  Celtic  civilization  in  Ireland  overlaid  a  still  older 
civilization.  The  legends  of  the  wars  between  the  Mi- 
lesians and  the  Tuatha  de  Danann  bring  this  out  clearly. 
In  the  wild  and  barren  western  province  of  Ireland,  Con- 
naught,  are  still  to  be  seen  men  of  the  pre-Celtic  race — 
especially  in  the  Joyce  country  in  Galway —  short,  stocky, 
men  with  hard  round  skulls,  covered  with  short,  bristly, 
black  hair.  The  King  of  Connaught  in  the  grove  play  re- 
presents this  pre-Celtic  race — a  bestial,  ferocious  crea- 
ture, a  slave  to  his  passions,  and  ever  ready  to  fight.  To 
him  the  loathsome  part  of  Patrick's  teaching  is  the  call  for 
restraining  his  passions,  and  especially  the  gospel  of  peace. 
His  brehon  is  of  the  same  type,  but  with  some  finer  in- 
stincts. He  is  affected  by  dwelling  on  the  shores  of  the 
Atlantic  Ocean;  he  recalls  the  vague  stories  of  sailors 
drifting  away  over  the  ocean  to  a  mythical  western  conti- 
nent; he,  like  his  king,  shrinks  from  Patrick'  doctrine,  but 
not  so  crudely.  To  him  the  ocean  and  the  setting  sun  are 
religion;  and  human  passions  are  sacred.  He  is  loyal  to 
his  king  with  the  loyalty  of  a  dog,  and  he  is  ready  with  his 
own  life  to  defend  the  crimes  and  vices  of  his  chief.  His 
druid  knows  that  the  old  religion  must  pass  away  and  in 
"The  Song  of  Connaught"  states  the  belief  that  a  new 

[13] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

religion  would  come  from  the  west,  from  across  the  Atlantic 
Ocean. 

Meath,  the  middle  kingdom,  which  touched  all  the  others, 
always  stood  in  historic  times  for  the  unity  of  Ireland. 
It  was  the  smallest  of  the  five  kingdoms  and  had  no  sea 
coast;  it  contained  the  holy  Hill  of  Tara,  where  the  Irish 
chieftains  occasionally  met;  and  its  king  was  during  this 
period  habitually  chosen  ardrigh  or  presiding  king  of  all 
Ireland,  partly  because  of  the  central  position  of  his  king- 
dom. The  King  of  Meath  in  the  grove  play  represents  the 
love  of  Ireland,  a  nation ;  he  appears  as  an  old  man  with 
white  hair  and  beard ;  his  druid  chants  the  praises  of  Ire- 
land in  "The  Song  of  Erin,"  and  he  himself  shows  a  passion- 
ate love  for  her  and  her  past  and  her  heroes  of  old  time. 
His  opposition  to  Patrick's  preaching  lies  in  its  rejection 
of  her  ancestral  faith,  in  its  renunciation  of  her  ancestral 
heroes  and  it  is  to  convince  him  that  Patrick  raises  the 
ghost  of  Cuchulainn.  The  historic  Laogaire,  son  of  Niall 
of  the  Nine  Hostages,  and  contemporary  of  St.  Patrick, 
was  King  of  Meath  and  High  King  or  ardrigh  of  all  Ireland 
from  425  A.  D.  to  463  A.  D.  During  his  reign  the  Sencbus 
Mor,  or  code  of  Irish  laws,  was  drawn  up,  and  many  coun- 
cils are  recorded  to  have  taken  place  at  Tara.  He  showed 
himself  tolerant  to  Christianity,  which  was  embraced  by 
many  of  his  relatives,  but  he  himself  refused  to  be  con- 
verted and  remained  faithful  to  his  ancestral  religion. 
Many  legends  are  told  of  his  interviews  with  St.  Patrick 
and  of  his  obstinate  paganism.  He  fought  many  wars  with 
Leinster,  not  always  with  success,  and  was  killed  during 
one  of  them  in  463,  just  two  years  after  the  death  of  St. 
Patrick. 

St.  Patrick,  whose  arrival  at  the  Hill  of  Tara  is  the 
spring  of  the  action  of  the  grove  play,  and  the  chief  points 
of  whose  arguments  over  the  thirty  years  of  his  mission  up 
and  down  Ireland,  are  concentrated  into  a  single  day,  was 
born  in  389  A.  D.,  and  was  therefore  a  man  of  forty- three  at 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

the  time  of  his  coming  to  Ireland  in  432  A.  D.  He  was  born 
of  a  Romanized  Celtic  stock  in  South  Wales —  the  old 
identification  of  Bannaventa  with  Dumbarton  in  Scotland 
has  been  disproved  by  Professor  Bury —  and  in  his  "Con- 
fession" he  describes  how  he  was  stolen  by  Irish  pirates  in 
his  boyhood  and  made  to  work  as  a  slave  herd-boy  for 
many  years.  He  came  of  a  family  which  had  taken  part 
in  the  government  of  his  native  place,  and  was  bred  a 
Christian.  During  his  slave  days,  he  fell  in  love  with  the 
beauty  of  the  Irish  scenery  and  the  character  of  the  Irish 
people,  their  many  virtues  and  general  charm,  and  legend 
says  that  he  vowed  that  if  ever  he  escaped  from  slavery,  he 
would  seek  the  support  of  the  Holy  Father,  the  Pope,  at 
Rome  and  would  return  to  convert  the  Irish  people  to 
Christianity.  In  his  "Confession"  he  describes  how  he  did 
escape  and  went  to  Gaul,  and  his  own  account  is  closely 
followed  in  the  first  scene  of  the  grove  play.  He  made  his 
way  to  Lerins,  a  little  island  religious  community  in  the 
Mediterranean,  off  the  southern  coast  of  France,  and  there 
received  the  rudiments  of  a  religious  education.  But  he 
never  became  very  well  educated  and  he  complains  in  his 
"Confession"  of  his  lack  of  literary  facility  and  his  "rusti- 
citas"  In  418  he  visited  his  relatives  in  Britain,  and  it  was 
there  that  in  a  dream  he  felt  himself  summoned  to  the 
work  of  converting  the  Irish  to  Christianity.  He  went  to 
Auxerre,  in  Gaul,  where  he  was  ordained  deacon  by  Bishop 
Amator,  and  he  was  on  his  way  to  Ireland,  thirteen  years 
later,  when  he  was  suddenly  called  back  to  Auxerre,  con- 
secrated a  bishop  by  Saint  Germanus,  and  appointed  to  the 
Irish  mission  in  the  place  of  Palladius  in  43 1 .  The  chief 
events  of  St.  Patrick's  later  life,  apart  from  the  incidents  of 
his  missionary  journeys  in  Ireland,  were  his  visit  to  Rome 
during  the  papacy  of  Leo  the  Great  in  441,  and  his  selec- 
tion and  foundation  of  Armagh,  in  Ulster,  as  the  primatial 
or  metropolitan  church  of  Ireland  in  444.  It  is  quite  cer- 
tain that  Christianity  was  already  established  in  the  south 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

of  Ireland  before  Patrick  arrived,  but  it  had  no  organi- 
zation or  regular  standing  as  part  of  the  religious  scheme 
of  Christendom.  Patrick  is  said  to  have  converted  all 
Ireland  by  the  time  of  his  death  in  461  A.  D.  The  legends 
of  his  teaching  and  preaching  show  him  to  have  possessed 
ready  wit,  much  controversial  power  and  a  fund  of  human 
sympathy. 

"The  bitter  hostility  of  the  druids,"  writes  Professor  Bury, 
"and  the  relations  of  Laogaire  to  Patrick  were  worked  up 
by  Irish  imagination  into  a  legend  which  ushers  in  the 
saint  upon  the  scene  of  his  work  with  great  spectacular 
effect.  The  story  represents  him  as  resolving  to  celebrate 
the  first  Easter  after  his  landing  in  Ireland  on  the  Hill  of 
Slaney,  which  rises  high  above  the  left  bank  of  the  Boyne 
at  about  twelve  miles  from  its  mouth.  On  the  night  of 
Easter  eve  he  and  his  companions  lit  the  paschal  fire,  and 
on  that  self-same  night  it  so  chanced  that  the  King  of  Ire- 
land held  a  high  and  solemn  festival  in  his  palace  at  Tara, 
where  the  kings  and  nobles  of  the  land  gathered  together. 
It  was  the  custom  that  on  that  night  of  the  year  no  fire 
should  be  lit  until  a  fire  had  been  kindled  with  solemn 
ritual  in  the  royal  house."  (Bury,  p.  104.)  With  this 
incident  begins  the  grove  play. 


[16] 


THE   PLOT  OF  THE   PLAY 

IT  is  the  morning  of  Easter  Sunday,  in  the  spring  of  432 
A.  D.  The  steward  of  the  ardrigh^  or  presiding  king  of  all 
Ireland,  at  that  time  the  King  of  Meath,  is  directing  the 
preparations  of  the  servants  for  the  council  of  the  kings  of 
the  provinces  of  Ireland,  who  have  been  summoned  to 
Tara  to  decide  upon  the  policy  to  be  adopted  toward 
Patrick,  the  news  of  whose  arrival  in  Ireland,  and  of  whose 
mission,  has  stirred  all  Irish  hearts.  The  hour  is  just  be- 
fore sunrise,  when  suddenly  there  flares  upon  the  horizon 
the  red  light  of  a  fire.  The  steward  and  servants  are 
horrified,  for  it  is  the  feast  of  Beltane,  and  an  old  law 
strictly  forbade,  under  pain  of  death,  the  lighting  of  any 
fire,  except  by  the  druids  upon  that  day.  It  is  the  paschal 
fire,  lit  by  Patrick  for  the  celebration  of  the  Easter  sacrifice. 
The  sun  rises  and  the  music  of  an  Irish  march  is  heard. 
Then  five  processions  enter  by  different  entrances;  first, 
the  King  and  Brehon  of  Leinster  in  their  saffron  colored 
robes,  with  a  druid  in  white  and  their  retainers  in  light 
blue ;  they  take  their  seats  to  the  right  of  the  stage ;  another 
blare  of  the  march,  and  the  King  and  Brehon  of  Munster, 
with  another  druid,  enter  with  their  retainers  in  dark  blue; 
they  take  their  place  to  the  left  of  the  stage;  another  blare 
of  the  march  and  the  Connaught  procession  enters,  clad  in 
dark  red,  and  they  take  their  place  to  the  right  of  the  High 
King's  throne ;  another  blare  of  the  march  and  the  Ulster 
procession  enters,  clad  in  bright  red,  and  take  their  place 
to  the  left  of  the  High  King's  throne;  the  march  rises  in 
intensity  and  the  old  High  King  enters  with  his  brehon 
and  his  druid  and  his  retainers  in  green,  and  takes  his  seat 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

in  the  center  of  the  stage.  The  music  ceases,  and  the  High 
King  signs  to  his  brehon  to  open  the  matter,  which  all  have 
assembled  to  discuss,  when  the  steward  rushes  forward  and 
interrupts  him  with  the  news  that  the  edict  against  fire  has 
been  infringed  and  that  a  red  blaze  has  been  seen  on  the 
horizon.  The  Kings  of  Oriel  and  Connaught  demand  the 
immediate  punishment  of  the  offender,  though  from  differ- 
ent standpoints ;  the  Kings  of  Munster  andLeinster  counsel 
mildness  and  delay,  though  from  different  standpoints ;  the 
High  King  accepts  this  counsel  and  sends  his  steward  with 
twelve  men,  namely,  the  four  servants  and  two  chosen 
from  the  retainers  of  each  of  the  other  four  kings,  to  bring 
the  offender  before  the  council.  As  they  go  up  the  hillside, 
the  fire  flares  up  for  a  last  moment. 

The  council  opens  with  a  speech  from  the  Brehon  of 
Meath,  describing  the  reason  for  the  summons,  and  the 
treatment  of  Patrick  is  being  discussed,  when  there  enters 
an  Irish  chieftain,  a  sad  and  melancholy  man,  whose 
saffron  robe  is  tattered  and  whose  misery  is  written  on  his 
face.  He  tells  his  tale.  He  bears  the  burden  of  Care.  He 
tells  how  his  home  has  been  burned,  how  his  chaste  wife 
has  been  ravished  and  his  children  slain.  Attempts  are 
made  to  comfort  him,  when  suddenly  the  King  of  Leinster 
shows  him  the  grinning  face  of  the  King  of  Connaught.  It 
flashes  across  the  chieftain  that  it  is  the  King  of  Con- 
naught,  his  neighbor  and  lord,  who  has  done  him  this 
wrong.  Hope  of  revenge  flashes  up  and  he  dashes  at  the 
King  of  Connaught  with  his  dagger  drawn.  The  Brehon 
of  Connaught  leaps  forward  to  meet  the  blow  and  save  his 
master,  while  the  King  continues  to  grin  sardonically,  but 
shows  no  fear.  The  chieftain  is  at  last  subdued,  and  re- 
moved to  be  brought  before  the  council  at  a  later  session. 
At  this  moment  the  "Pange  Lingua1  is  heard  from  the  hill- 
top, and  at  the  top  of  the  hillside  is  seen  a  procession 
approaching.  It  is  led  by  a  crucifer  bearing  a  cross;  he  is 
followed  by  Patrick  in  his  episcopal  robes,  and  by  eight 

[18] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

missionaries  chanting  the  processional;  and  after  them 
come  the  steward  of  the  High  King  with  the  twelve  men, 
who  had  been  sent  to  bring  the  offender  who  had  lighted 
the  forbidden  fire.  Those  on  the  stage  watch  the  procession. 

When  Patrick  and  his  followers  reach  the  stage,  the 
steward  declares  that  he  has  brought  the  offender  who  had 
lit  the  forbidden  fire.  Patrick  explains  the  circumstances, 
describes  his  early  slave  life  in  Ireland,  expounds  his  mis- 
sion, and  expresses  his  longing  to  see  Ireland  Christian. 
He  is  interrupted  on  all  sides,  when  the  High  King  rises, 
declares  the  council  adjourned,  and  announces  that  the 
whole  matter  will  be  discussed  after  the  usual  feast  and 
revels.  The  kings  and  their  retainers  retire  to  the  music 
of  the  Irish  march  in  the  reverse  order  from  that  in  which 
they  entered;  Patrick  looks  sadly  after  them.  The  mis- 
sionaries again  chant  the  "Pange  Lingua"  and  leave 
the  stage,  escorted  by  the  steward.  The  stage  darkens 
and  an  intermezzo  is  played  by  the  orchestra. 

The  second  episode  begins  with  the  entrance  of  the  re- 
tainers of  the  kings,  noisy,  exhilarated,  and  partially  in- 
toxicated. The  Brehon  of  Muster  leads  in  a  drinking  song 
which  is  followed  by  the  dancing  of  an  Irish  jig.  Enter 
the  kings  themselves  from  the  banquet.  The  King  of 
Connaught  is  quarrelsomely  drunk;  the  King  of  Munster 
mellow  with  liquor;  the  King  of  Leinster  has  drunk  enough 
to  loosen  his  tongue ;  the  King  of  Ulster  is  sober  and  looks 
cynically  on  the  the  noisy  scene,  while  his  druid  is  sober 
and  indignant;  the  old  High  King  takes  his  seat,  looking 
sadly  at  the  spectacle  of  such  riotous  behavior,  but  yet 
sympathetically  at  the  joyous  nature  of  the  scene.  The 
tumult  is  hushed;  the  drunken  King  of  Munster  falls  into 
a  drunken  sleep ;  and,  by  the  High  King's  orders,  Patrick 
and  his  missionaries  are  introduced  by  one  entrance,  under 
escort  of  the  steward,  and  the  chieftain,  the  victim  of  Care, 
under  the  escort  of  the  Brehon  of  Leinster,  by  another. 

Patrick  looks  sternly  round,  perceives   the  continued 

[19] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

excitement  in  the  air  and  sees  that  his  opportunity  has 
come.  The  victim  of  Care  has  resumed  the  sadness  of  his 
original  entrance,  but  glances  from  time  to  time  in  fierce 
anger  at  his  enemy,  the  King  of  Connaught,  who  grins  back 
at  him  in  drunken  malevolence.  The  Brehon  of  Connaught 
watches  the  chieftain  needfully,  ready  at  any  moment  to 
protect  his  king.  The  King  and  Brehon  of  Leinster  show 
by  their  actions  their  sympathy  with  the  chieftain.  On 
the  other  side  of  the  stage,  the  King  and  the  Brehon  of 
Ulster  watch  every  movement  and  listen  to  every  word  of 
Patrick,  while  the  King  of  Munster  is  in  a  drunken  sleep 
and  the  Brehon  of  Munster  fuddled  but  awake.  The  High 
King  presides  with  dignity.  The  chieftain  is  at  his  en- 
trance utterly  indifferent  to  Patrick,  but  he  gradually  be- 
comes absorbed  in  his  words  and  approaches  closer  to  him. 
The  High  King  calls  on  Patrick  to  speak.  Patrick 
speaks.  As  he  speaks  of  the  universal  character  of  Christen- 
dom and  the  greatness  of  Rome,  the  King  of  Leinster 
interrupts  and  praises  the  individualism  and  the  political 
and  social  freedom  of  the  Irish  Celts.  Then  as  Patrick 
speaks  of  the  sobriety  of  Christianity,  the  Brehon  of 
Munster  interrupts  with  the  praise  of  liquor,  as  "gods' 
good  creature;"  Patrick  catches  his  tone  and  playfully 
promises  to  drive  all  the  snakes  out  of  Ireland,  since  these 
snakes  are  largely  the  result  of  the  drunkard's  fuddled 
brain.  Then  Patrick  speaks  of  the  virtues  of  Christianity 
and  of  his  God  as  the  God  of  Peace.  The  King  of  Con- 
naught  brutally  interrupts  and  shouts  his  praise  of  fighting 
and  vice.  Then  Patrick  attacks  druidism  and  the  Druid  of 
Oriel  opposes  Patrick's  teaching  as  unpatriotic  and  sacri- 
legious. The  chieftain,  victim  of  Care,  is  attracted  by 
an  allusion  to  immortality  and  comes  up  close  to  Patrick. 
Then  the  High  King,  in  solemn  words,  speaks  of  the 
ancestral  heroes  of  Ireland,  and  asks  if  they,  even  the  great 
Cuchulainn,  are  damned  because  they  were  not  Christians. 
To  this  argument  Patrick  replies  with  dignity ;  he  calls  on 

[.*>] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

God  to  aid  him;  his  missionaries  chant;  Patrick  prays 
aloud;  he  waves  his  arm;  and  the  spirit  of  Cuchulainn 
appears.  A  brief  dialogue  ensues,  taken  as  nearly  as 
possible  in  the  very  words  of  the  old  Irish  legend ;  and  the 
spirit  or  ghost  of  Cuchulainn  disappears,  leaving  the  whole 
council  profoundly  impressed.  By  this  time  the  effect  of 
the  riotous  drinking  is  passing  away.  But  Patrick  has  not 
yet  convinced  them.  Surely  the  old  beautiful  nature  gods, 
their  old  tribal  freedom,  their  old  jolly  pleasures,  their  old 
indulgence  in  war  and  vice,  are  preferable  to  this  cold  new 
faith  in  a  "gibbeted  man."  The  human  touch  is  lacking. 
It  comes.  The  chieftain,  victim  of  care  and  sorrow,  tells 
his  tale  briefly  to  Patrick;  and  Patrick  sympathetically 
hears  him,  tells  him  of  an  after-life,  of  a  heaven,  where 
all  care  and  sorrow  are  forgotten,  of  a  place  where  he  may 
meet  his  loved  ones  again.  The  crowd  is  touched;  the 
victim  of  Care  declares  his  belief  in  the  new  religion,  and 
kneels  before  Patrick  begging  to  be  received  into  the  church 
that  promises  such  solace  for  care  and  sorrow.  Suddenly, 
angered  at  the  attitude  of  the  council  and  its  rallying  to 
Patrick's  side,  the  Druid  of  Oriel  dashes  at  Patrick  with 
his  dagger  drawn  and  strikes  at  him;  but  the  chieftain, 
victim  of  Care,  springs  to  save  Patrick  and  receives  the 
blow.  As  he  sinks  to  the  ground,  he  asks  for  a  further 
proof  of  the  truth  of  the  religion  he  has  just  embraced;  the 
Kings  of  Leinster  and  Oriel  hold  him  up,  and  Patrick 
waves  his  arm  thrice  toward  the  hillside,  where  a  great 
white  cross  appears.  The  missionaries  chant  the  "Veni 
Creator';  the  crowd  all  fall  upon  their  knees,  except  the 
High  King  and  the  druids;  even  the  King  of  Munster  is 
awakened  and  flops  on  his  knees ;  even  the  King  of  Con- 
naught  is  awed;  the  forest  is  illuminated  behind  the  cross; 
the  music  indicates  the  victory  of  the  Christian  chant  over 
the  music  of  the  opening  Irish  march;  Patrick  raises 
his  hand  in  blessing  over  the  dying  victim  of  Care,  who 
slowly  sinks  back  dead. 


Thou  hast  conquered,  0  pale  Galilean; 
The  world  has  grown  grey  from  thy  breath. 
— Swinburne. 

When  the  half -gods  go, 
'The  gods  arrive. 

— Emerson. 


[22] 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 


THE  HIGH  KING  (King  of  Meath) 
THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 
A  DRUID  OF  MEATH 
THE  KING  OF  ORIEL  IN  ULSTER 
THE  BREHON  OF  ORIEL 
A  DRUID  FROM  ORIEL 
THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 
THE  BREHON  OF  LEINSTER 
A  DRUID  FROM  LEINSTER 
THE  KING  OF  MUNSTER 
THE  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER 
A  DRUID  FROM  MUNSTER 
THE  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT 
THE  BREHON  OF  CONNAUGHT 


MR.  FRANK  P.  DEERING 
MR.  EDGAR  D.  PEIXOTTO 
MR.  T.  V.  BAKEWELL 
MR.  CHARLES  K.  FIELD 
MR.  OSCAR  FRANK 
MR.  W.  H.  SMITH,  JR 
MR.  ALLAN  DUNN 
MR.  I.  O.  UPHAM 
MR.  WYATT  H.  ALLEN 
MR.  WALDEMAR  YOUNG 
MR.  W,  B.  HOPKINS 
MR.  RUFUS  STEELE 
MR.  R.  C.  NEWELL 
MR.  FRANK  A.  CORBUSIER 
MR.  LOWELL  REDFIELD 


A  DRUID  FROM  CONNAUGHT 
THE  STEWARD  OF  THE  HIGH  KING   MR.  W.  H.  ROBINSON 
THE  APPARITION  OF  CUCHULAINN  MR.  H.  McD.  SPENCER 
A  CHIEFTAIN  DR.  J.  WILSON  SHIELS 

PATRICK  MR.  R.  M.  HOTALING 

THE  CRUCIFER  MR.  J.  D.  FLETCHER 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

FIRST  SERVANT  MR.  JOHN  C.  DORNIN 

SECOND  SERVANT  MR.  W.  J.  WAYTE 

THIRD  SERVANT  MR.  GEORGE  W.  TURNER 

FOURTH  SERVANT  MR.  RALPH  P.  MERRITT 

Retainers  of  the  Kings ,  Missionaries 

PLACE:    The  Hill  of  Tara,  in  the  Meath,  Ireland. 
TIME:    Scene  I— Dawn  of  Easter  Sunday,  A.D.  432.    Scene  II— 
Evening  of  the  same  day. 

•     • 

Production  directed  by  MR.  FRANK  L.  MATHIEU. 
Setting  and  properties  designed  and  executed  by  Mr.  GEORGE  LYON. 
Costumes  designed  by  MR.  PORTER  GARNETT. 
Lighting  by  MR.  EDWARD  J.  DUFFEY. 

•          • 

• 

Musical  Director,  MR.  WALLACE  A.  SABIN. 
Chorus  Master,  MR.  E.  D.  CRANDALL. 


[34] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

*A  Forest  Tlay 

To  the  Memory  of  Denis  0' Sullivan, 
good  Bohemian,  good  Irishman,  this 
forest  play  is  lovingly  and  reverently 
dedicated. 

SCENE  I 

At  the  foot  of  the  Hill  of  Tara,  in  the  Meath,  Ireland. 
Preparation  has  been  made  for  the  Council  of  the  Kings, 
which  has  been  called  upon  the  news  of  the  landing  of  Bishop 
Patrick.  There  are  five  thrones  for  the  KINGS  OF  ORIEL  in 
Ulster,  MUNSTER,  LEINSTER,  CONNAUGHT,  and  MEATH. 
The  throne  of  the  KING  OF  MEATH,  who  is  Ardrigh  or  HIGH 
KING  of  all  Ireland,  is  in  the  center;  to  the  right,  the  thrones 
of  the  KINGS  OF  ORIEL  and  MUNSTER;  to  the  left,  the  thrones 
of  the  KINGS  OF  CONNAUGHT  and  LEINSTER.  The  gray  of 
dawn. 

[The  STEWARD  OF  THE  HIGH  KING  enters  and  with 
him  four  Servants,  carrying  fresh  brush. 

THE  STEWARD 

This  is  the  place, 

Where  meet  the  chiefs  of  Ireland  to  discuss 
Affairs  of  import  to  the  island  realm, 
The  holy  Hill  of  Tara ;  from  time  to  time 
Forgetting  ancient  strife  and  bitter  war, 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

They  here  assembled  to  decide  the  fate 
Of  Ireland's  future  and  the  Irish  state. 

FIRST  SERVANT 
Why  meets  the  council  at  this  present  time  ? 

THE  STEWARD 

The  news  arrived  not  many  months  ago 

Of  foreign  wizards  landing  on  this  shore, 

Attacking  the  beliefs  of  former  days, 

Disturbing  with  strange  words  the  minds  of  men 

Who  worship  as  their  fathers  did  of  old, 

And  working  wonders,  which  surpass  in  skill, 

In  miracle  and  in  prophetic  truth, 

All  that  our  druids  do.    This  the  High  King, 

Learning  from  many  sources,  felt  to  be 

So  great  a  menace  to  our  Irish  faith, 

That  he  sent  forth  his  summons  through  the  land 

To  all  the  kings  of  Ireland  to  come  here, 

During  the  sacred  season  of  Beltane, 

To  the  old  accustomed  council  place  of  kings, 

The  holy  Hill  of  Tara,  to  decide, 

What  steps  to  take  against  the  wizards,  who 

Have  dared  deny  old  Ireland's  cherished  gods. 

SECOND  SERVANT 
By  what  name,  sir,  are  these  foul  wizards  called  ? 

THE  STEWARD 

I  know  not ;  but  the  leader  of  the  band, 
A  British  slave,  who  broke  his  bonds  and  fled, 
Once  kept  the  flocks  of  sheep  of  old  Miliucc. 
He  on  returning  caused  the  flames  to  fall 
From  heaven  by  magic  to  consume  the  hall 
Of  his  old  master  and  destroy  it  all. 
But  cease  this  idle  talking;  get  to  work — 

[*6] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Give  the  last  touches  to  the  council  place- 
Remove  the  branches  and  the  leaves  that  fell 
During  the  night;  make  fair  the  thrones  of  kings. 
For  days  I've  labored  with  unceasing  toil 
That  all  things  shall  be  fit  and  proper  for 
This  morning's  council.    The  first  streaks  of  dawn 
Show  in  the  east.    As  I  came  through  the  camps, 
I  heard  the  din  among  the  followers 
Of  Ireland's  kings,  for  each  is  trying  hard 
To  outshine  the  others,  and  I  deem  it  wise 
In  the  High  King  to  limit  close  the  force 
That  each  might  bring  to  council;  else,  no  doubt, 
Unequal  strength  might  tempt  from  words  to  blows. 
All  night  I  watched  in  darkness,  for  the  law 
Of  Beltane's  feast  is  strict,  that  none  shall  light 
On  pain  of  death  a  fire  upon  this  night. 

\_While  the  STEWARD  is  speaking,  the  Servants  are 

busied  in  removing  the  litter  of  branches  and 

leaves. 

THIRD  SERVANT 
How  sit  the  kings  in  council  ?    Why  five  thrones  ? 

THE  STEWARD 

Here  to  the  right  sits  Munster — a  stout  king, 
Fond  of  strong  drink  and  hearty  jollity; 
O'er  Ireland's  richest  kingdom  holds  he  rule, 
Lord  of  fat  cattle  and  of  pastures  green ; 
With  him  his  brehon  and  chief  druid  come, 
Both  lusty  men  and  worthy  such  a  king, 
With  ten  men  more  in  dark  blue  garments  clad. 
And  next  from  Ulster's  northern  land  there  comes 
The  King  of  Oriel,  a  black-haired  chief, 
Full  of  strange  fancies  and  fantastic  thoughts, 
Adoring  ancient  gods  and  ancient  rites. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

By  him  his  sweet-voiced  brehon  always  sits, 

Charming  his  gloom  with  Red  Branch  legends  old 

And  tales  of  Nature's  beauty,  till  the  fame 

Of  that  sweet  music  spreads  throughout  the  land. 

With  him  there  comes  a  druid  from  the  north, 

A  ruthless  worshiper  of  altars  old 

And  fierce  adorer  of  the  ancient  gods. 

FOURTH  SERVANT 
And  who  sit,  master,  on  the  other  thrones  ? 

THE  STEWARD 

Over  there,  the  savage  King  of  Connaught — 
Black-browed  and  bullet-headed,  fierce  in  fight — 
Belonging  to  an  older  race  than  the 
Milesians  of  Erin,  and  he  dwells 
Close  to  the  ocean  with  a  savage  horde 
Of  noisy  ruffians,  faithful  to  the  death. 

FOURTH  SERVANT 

My  mother  told  me  tales  of  these  wild  men, 
Their  love  of  vengeance  and  their  cruel  deeds, 
Which  frighted  from  me  many  an  hour  of  sleep. 

THE  STEWARD 

Last  of  our  visitors  there  has  his  seat 
The  King  of  Leinster,  our  defeated  foe, 
Who  has  forgot  his  quarrel  with  our  king, 
To  sit  in  council  at  this  present  time, 
And  give  advice  upon  the  issue  raised. 
A  politic  king  is  he,  and  well  endowed 
With  Irish  wit  and  Irish  shrewdness,  too, 
Knowing  the  world  well,  and  not  terrified 
By  old-time  gods  and  new-time  prophecies. 
He  brings  his  brehon  and  a  druid,  too; 
But  asks  not  counsel  of  them  like  the  rest, 

[28] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Being  his  own  best  counsellor,  he  thinks. 
His  band  is  with  him,  clad  in  brilliant  blue. 

FIRST  SERVANT 

(climbing  to  the  HIGH  KING'S  seaf,  and  clearing  it  of  leaves) 
This,  then,  must  be  the  seat  of  Laogaire, 
High  King  of  Ireland,  our  most  gracious  lord, 
Since  it  overlooks  the  rest,  and  he  presides 
In  Ireland's  councils. 

SECOND  SERVANT  (aiding  him) 

But  he  is  also 

King  of  the  Meath,  our  middle  kingdom  famed, 
Which  touches  all  the  others,  and  itself 
Is  heart  of  Ireland,  for  its  bounds  include 
This  holy  Hill  of  Tara  where  we  pray. 

THE  STEWARD 

Yes,  make  all  fit  for  good  King  Laogaire, 
High  King  of  Ireland,  valiant,  wise,  and  just, 
Who  ne'er  forgives  an  injury,  yet  holds 
Rein  on  his  passions ;  whose  reverend  age 
Makes  the  more  youthful  listen,  and  whose  fame 
Makes  them  obey ;  who  loving  well  the  old 
Yet  lends  his  ear  when  novel  tales  are  told. 

[Red  flame  flashes  up  on  the  hillside. 

THIRD  SERVANT 
Master!   the  flame! 

FOURTH  SERVANT 

Look  how  it  flashes  bright ! 

FIRST  SERVANT 
The  heaven's  afire! 

[29] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
SECOND  SERVANT 

It  reddens  all  in  sight! 
THE  STEWARD 

What  means  this  fire  on  Beltane's  sacred  night  ? 
The  law  is  known.    The  punishment  is  death. 
All  night  I  watched  in  darkness  for  the  dawn, 
Despite  official  duties  pressing  me. 

\¥he  flame  flares  up  again. 

It  seems  to  come  from  Slaney,  just  across 
The  valley,  and  some  stranger  must  have  lit 
A  blazing  bonfire,  for  no  son  of  Meath 
Could  have  ignored  the  law. 

\¥he  flame  dies  down. 

Now  it  dies  down — 
I  must  at  once  to  the  High  King  repair 
And  tell  him  of  this  sacrilegious  fire. 
For  from  the  other  scarpment  of  the  hill 
The  light  could  not  be  seen. 
(moving  as  though  to  leave) 

But  'tis  too  late; 
I  hear  the  tramp  of  footsteps  coming  near. 

(returning) 

So  I  must  wait  until  the  chiefs  are  set 
And  in  full  council  tell  this  fearful  crime 
And  breach  of  Beltane's  laws.    Stand  ye  right  here, 
While  I  prepare  to  marshal  forth  the  kings. 

\fThe  Leinster  procession  enters,  led  by  the  KING  OF 
LEINSTER,  walking  ahead  of  his  BREHON  and 
DRUID,  and  followed  by  ten  Retainers  in  light 
blue. 

MEN  OF  LEINSTER  (singing) 

We  are  sons  of  glorious  Leinster, 
From  the  east  we  come; 

[30] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

We  are  sons  of  glorious  Leinster, 

Fair  is  our  eastern  home. 
Our  land  is  rich  in  harbors  fair, 

We  sail  the  Irish  Sea, 
Others  with  us  can  not  compare, 

Strong  and  brave  and  free. 

\fThe  Munster  procession  enters,  led  by  the  KING  OF 
MUNSTER,  singing  merrily,  with  one  arm  around 
bis  BREHON,  who  carries  a  jar  of  liquor  and  two 
cups,  and  with  his  DRUID  by  his  side,  followed 
by  ten  Retainers  in  dark  blue. 

MEN  OF  MUNSTER  (singing) 

Munster  men  are  we,  lusty  fellows  we, 
From  the  south  we  come; 

We,  the  sons  of  happy  Munster, 
Love  our  southern  home. 

Where  the  land  is  rich  with  verdure 
Hearts  from  care  are  free; 

Where  the  sky  is  bright,  and  the  work  is  light, 
Men  of  the  south  are  we. 

\fThe  Connaught  procession  enters,  led  by  the  KING 
OF  CONNAUGHT,  stalking  ahead  and  scowling, 
followed  at  some  distance  by  his  BREHON  and 
DRUID  and  by  ten  Retainers  in  dark  red. 

MEN  OF  CONNAUGHT  (singing) 

We,  the  men  of  rock-bound  Connaught, 

From  the  west  have  come; 
We,  the  war-like  sons  of  Connaught, 

Sing  of  our  western  home, 
Where  the  ocean  breeze  is  surging 

Through  the  fog  and  mist. 
To  the  fight  we  need  no  urging, 

Hard  of  heart  and  fist. 

[31] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

[The  Ulster  procession  enters,  led  by  the  KING  OF 
ORIEL  in  friendly  guise  with  his  BREHON  and 
DRUID  followed  by  ten  Retainers  in  bright  red. 

MEN  OF  ULSTER  (singing) 

We,  the  valiant  sons  of  Ulster, 

From  our  hills  have  come; 
From  the  cold,  bleak  winds  of  Ulster, 

From  our  northern  home. 
Where  the  ancient  gods  are  loved  now, 

As  they  were  of  old, 
And  the  Red  Branch  legends  tell  how 

Men  were  brave  and  bold. 

\ffhe  HIGH  KING'S  procession  enters.  'Twelve  Re- 
tainers in  green  march  first,  in  the  same  quick 
step  as  the  others,  singing,  and  are  followed  by 
the  HIGH  KING,  walking  very  slowly  and  bowing 
to  the  other  kings,  closely  supported  by  his  BRE- 
HON and  DRUID. 

MEN  OF  MEATH  (singing) 

We  are  men  of  central  Ireland, 

Middle  Meath  our  home ; 
Dwelling  in  the  heart  of  Ireland 

All  the  land's  our  home. 

Here  old  Ireland's  life  we  cherish 

'Neath  our  holy  hill; 
Here  all  wrath  and  discords  perish ; 

Ireland  a  nation  still! 
[All  take  their  seats,  grouped  round  the  five  thrones. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

Welcome  to  Tara!    Now  the  hour  has  come 
When  we  in  solemn  council  must  resolve 
What  steps  to  take  to  save  old  Ireland's  faith. 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Welcome,  ye  chiefs  of  Ireland — welcome  all; 
Welcome,  ye  brehons,  who  expound  the  law; 
Welcome,  ye  druids,  who  preserve  the  faith! 

(to  his  DRUID) 
Open  the  meeting  in  accustomed  form. 

THE  DRUID  OF  MEATH 
Arise,  ye  druids,  from  north,  east,  west,  south. 

[The  other  Druids  rise  from  their  seats,  and,  led  by 
the  DRUID  OF  MEATH,  turn  to  the  north,  east, 
west,  and  south,  raising  their  hands  and  looking 
at  the  sky. 

THE  DRUIDS 

The  day  is  propitious,  the  auguries  are  fair. 
THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 

The  Council  is  opened— 

[The  STEWARD  comes  forward,  raises  his  hand, 
checks  the  BREHON  OF  MEATH  in  the  very  act 
of  speaking,  attracts  all  eyes,  creates  silence  by 
his  gestures,  and  addresses  the  HIGH  KING. 

THE  STEWARD 

Hear  me,  my  lords, 

Ye  chiefs  and  priests  of  Ireland.    As  the  dawn 
Showed  in  the  east  this  day,  and  as  we  set 
The  place  for  this  great  meeting,  forth  there  flashed 
Bright  flames  from  Slaney  right  across  the  sky, 
Reddening  the  heavens  and  startling  all  who  saw. 
Whether  by  mortal  or  immortal  hands 
The  fire  was  lit,  I  know  not,  but  the  law 
Of  Beltane's  sacred  feast  by  act  of  man 
Or  act  of  god  was  broken,  and  I  deemed 
It  was  my  duty  to  acquaint  ye  all 
With  this  strange  portent  'ere  the  council  met. 

[33] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
THE  DRUID  OF  ORIEL 

What  says  the  prophecy,  that  from  of  old 
Forbids  the  lighting  of  the  wonted  fires 
On  Beltane's  feast,  until  the  sacred  flame 
Is  started  with  due  rites  by  holy  priest  ? 
Whenever  starts  a  fire  on  spring's  first  morn, 
Not  lit  by  druid's  hand, 
Not  fed  by  druid's  breath, 
Not  blessed  by  druid's  prayer, 
The  ancient  faith  of  Ireland  will  give  way, 
The  druid  faith,  before  the  doctrines  new 
Of  the  new  god,  who  lit  the  fated  flame. 
Therefore,  the  druids  made  the  sacred  law 
To  save  their  faith  from  peril,  that  the  man 
Who  lights  such  fire  shall  surely  die  the  death. 
My  mind  misgives  me  that  the  fatal  day 
For  Ireland's  druid  faith  has  dawned  at  last, 
And  that  the  British  preacher,  whose  onset 
Upon  our  faith  has  caused  this  council  here, 
Makes  thus  his  challenge  to  our  trembling  fear. 
But  we  invoke  the  law. 

[He  turns  to  tbe  KING  OF  ORIEL  and  then  to  THE 
HIGH  KING. 

My  chief  and  I, 

Druid  and  King  of  Oriel,  demand 
The  instant  punishment  of  death  upon 
The  sacrilegious  lighter  of  the  fire 
Of  which  the  Steward  tells  us. 

THE  BREHON  OF  CONNAUGHT 
(catching  the  idea  from  his  king,  who  smiles  grimly) 

My  chief,  too, 

Demands  the  punishment  of  death,  for  he 
Holds  that  no  council  rightly  is  begun 
Without  the  human  victim  whom  our  sires 

[34] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Slew  to  win  favor  from  the  gods  above 

In  the  brave  days  of  Ireland's  ancient  faith. 

1  THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER  (interrupting) 

Peace  to  such  cruel  counsel.    I  demand 

That  due  inquiry  shall  be  made,  and  that 

No  man,  however  guilty,  be  condemned, 

Without  a  hearing;  for  too  long  have  we 

Been  swayed  by  druid  priests,  and  bowed  too  long 

To  barbarous  customs  of  the  savage  west. 

THE  KING  OF  MUNSTER 

For  my  part,  this  long  council  makes  me  dry. 
Give  me  to  drink — 

[He  turns  to  his  BREHON,  who  gives  him  a  cup,  which 
he  drains. 

And  let  us  not  discuss 
Shedding  men's  blood  and  such  like  horrid  deeds. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

I  grant  the  justice  of  the  druids'  plaint; 

The  law  has  been  infringed;  I,  like  Connaught, 

Hold  close  by  ancient  usage;  but  I  yield 

To  Leinster's  plea  for  judgment,  slow  and  sure. 

Give  order,  brehon,  for  the  bringing  here 

At  once,  without  delay,  of  all  who  shared 

In  breaking  Beltane's  law  on  this  spring  morn. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 
(to  the  STEWARD) 

Go  toward  Slaney,  where  the  fire  was  seen, 
Taking  twelve  men,  of  whom  four  of  thine  own 
And  two  selected  from  each  chieftain's  train. 
Find  and  bring  straight  before  the  council  here, 

[35] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Without  permitting  e'en  the  least  delay, 
All  who  have  broken  the  most  sacred  law 
By  lighting  fires  upon  the  Beltane  feast. 

\¥he  STEWARD  selects  bis  men,  four  of  his  own,  the 
four  Servants  who  were  with  him  in  the  opening 
scene,  takes  two  from  the  Retainers  of  each  of  the 
four  kings,  and,  marshaling  them,  bows  to  the 
HIGH  KING  and  goes  up  the  hillside;  the  rest 
watch  them;  the  light  flares  up  for  the  last  time. 
While  the  STEWARD  is  selecting  the  Retainers  and 
marching  up  the  hillside  with  them,  the  BREHON 
OF  CONNAUGHT  is  still  showing  his  indignation 
at  the  slurs  cast  upon  the  "savage  west."  He 
rises  from  his  seat  to  protest. 

THE  BREHON  OF  CONNAUGHT 

We  are  no  savages.    We  know  full  well 
That  some  day  from  the  west  new  gods  shall  come. 
The  oldest  folk  in  Ireland,  we  recall 
Old  legends  echoed  back  by  sailors  bold 
Whose  ships  have  drifted  to  the  setting  sun. 
These  echoes,  carried  by  the  winds  and  waves, 
Have  told  us  that  some  day  new  gods  will  rise, 
That  in  the  furthest  west  the  future  lies. 

e  DRUID  OF  CONNAUGHT  steps  forward  and  sings 
the  Song  of  Connaught. 

THE  DRUID  OF  CONNAUGHT  (singing) 

Western  the  winds  are, 

And  western  the  waters, 

Where  Connaught  lies: 
There  keen  are  the  winds, 
And  storm-tossed  the  waters, 

Darkling  the  skies. 

[36] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

A  voice  on  the  winds, 
A  voice  by  the  waters, 

A  new  spirit  cries: 
"Oh,  who  rules  these  winds  ? 
And  who  stirs  these  waters  ? 

The  old  gods  denies  ?" 

Across  the  wild  waves, 
Across  western  waters, 

The  answer  flies: 
"Beyond  these  fierce  winds, 
Beyond  these  rough  waters, 

The  future  lies." 

Yes,  down  the  loud  winds, 
And  o'er  the  blue  waters, 

Old  Ocean  replies: 
Above  the  high  winds, 
Above  the  cold  waters, 
Though  wild  be  the  winds, 
And  rough  be  the  waters, 

The  new  gods  arise. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

Brehon,  the  time  has  come  now  to  discuss 
The  matter  which  has  led  me  here  to  call 
The  chiefs  of  Ireland.    Open  thou  the  cause. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 

Kings,  brehons,  druids,  all,  give  ear, 
And  hearken  to  the  words  that  I  shall  say: 
Upon  the  coast  of  Ireland  late  there  came 
A  former  slave,  of  British  birth,  who  fled 
From  bondage  more  than  twenty  years  ago. 
He  now  returns,  and,  working  magic  spells 

[37] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

And  showing  wonders,  has  bewitched  men's  minds 
So  that  they  doubt  the  gods  of  olden  time. 
Hearing  these  tidings,  wise  King  Laogaire, 
Remembering  prophecies  of  ancient  days, 
And  fearing  for  the  life  of  druid  faith, 
Resolved  to  summon  here  a  council  great, 

Such  as  is  wont  to  meet  at  solemn  feasts 

To  settle  matters  of  the  common  weal. 

The  High  King  deems  it  well  all  should  agree 

To  face  this  peril  with  united  strength. 

Full  well  he  knows  that  Irishmen  hold  fast 

Their  fathers'  faith,  but  also  well  he  knows 

Concerted  action  only  can  be  had 

After  due  consultation  and  debate. 

So  now  he  asks  your  counsel,  one  and  all, 

To  lure  this  British  wizard  to  his  fall. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

The  High  King  knows  that  Irish  chiefs  are  free, 
And  able  to  take  care  of  their  own  lands; 
His  petty  realm  of  Meath,  as  all  men  know, 
Exists  by  my  forbearance,  and  my  septs, 
The  valiant  men  of  Leinster,  oft  have  shown 
That  Laogaire  is  king  in  name  alone 
Over  all  Ireland — 

\ffhe  men  of  Meath  spring  from  their  seats  with  in- 
dignation, but  are  quieted  by  the  HIGH  KING. 

And  my  counsel  is 

That  wizard  against  wizard  should  be  set. 
This  Briton  brings  his  spells  from  far  away; 
The  druids  fear  him ;  therefore,  let  them  show 
That  they  are  stronger;  let  the  contest  be 
Free,  without  favor.    When  this  stranger  came, 

[38] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

And  one  before  him,  singing  the  same  song, 
I  let  them  stay  in  Leinster,  for  I  know 
That  many  men  have  many  faiths  abroad, 
And  that  the  world  is  not  by  druids  ruled. 
My  people  know  of  Britain  and  of  Gaul ; 
They  know  of  Rome;  they  are  not  savage  folk 
Of  inner  Ireland,  who  all  new  thoughts  shun 
Because  they're  new;  and  I  a  kingdom  rule, 
Fairest  and  best  in  Ireland,  where  no  priest 
Opens  his  mouth  without  my  leave,  and  where 
Druids  and  bards  are  silent  and  obey. 

THE  KING  OF  MUNSTER 

"Fairest  and  best  in  Ireland" !  but  I  say 

That  Munster  fields  are  richer;  Munster  men 

Braver  and  happier ;  a  land  of  peace, 

Where  druids  share  their  lord's  repast 

And  make  no  trouble;  where  the  Christians, 

For  so  these  British  slaves  do  call  themselves, 

Have  long  been  with  us,  and  have  caused  no  strife. 

If  this  new  wizard  comes  to  spread  the  faith 

Of  Christians,  have  no  fear,  for  he  will  do 

No  harm  to  Ireland's  ancient  joy  and  peace. 

If  this  be  all  the  question,  let  us  now 

Adjourn  to  revel,  for  the  feast  is  all 

That  draws  us  here  from  Munster,  and,  meanwhile, 

Give  me  to  drink,  for  talking  fosters  thirst. 

\He  turns  to  his  BREHON,  who  gives  him  the  cup;  he 

drinks,  then  passes  it  back  to  the  BREHON,  who 

drains  it. 


THE  KING,  BREHON,  AND  DRUID  OF  CONNAUGHT 

and"! 
1  with 

[39] 


"Savage  folk  of  inner  Ireland" !  down,  we  say, 
With  eastern  manners  and  with  eastern  scorn. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 
(slowly  and  with  emphasis) 

It  seems,  High  King,  we  have  forgot  the  cause 

That  brought  us  all  to  Tara.    And,  alas! 

The  usual  brawling  threatens  Ireland's  peace, 

And  Ireland's  factions  ruin  Ireland's  hopes. 

We  never  work  together,  yet  the  times 

Are  evil,  and  the  danger  now  is  great 

That  the  one  thing  that  knits  all  Irish  hearts, 

Our  fathers'  faith,  may  now  be  torn  and  lost. 

I  reverence  the  gods,  and  I  believe 

The  druids  are  the  mouthpieces  of  heaven, 

Who  know  the  past  and  future,  and  whose  prayers 

Turn  the  wrath  from  us,  that  would  surely  fall 

But  for  the  old  accustomed  sacrifice. 

So  I  would  bid  you  hear  the  sacred  words 

Of  the  most  learned  druid  of  them  all, 

Whose  pious  life  and  reverend  countenance 

Have  won  the  allegiance  of  all  Ulster  men. 

THE  DRUID  OF  ORIEL 

Friends — chiefs,  priests,  bards,  our  Ireland's  noblest  sons, 

'T  is  no  slight  danger  that  confronts  us  now. 

I  fear  no  preaching  of  the  British  slave ; 

Our  faith  is  firmly  fixed  in  heaven  above. 

We  druids  know  the  truth,  and  I  demand 

A  meeting  with  this  wizard  face  to  face. 

But  most  grieves  me  the  readiness  to  hear 

Strange  doctrines,  and  the  license  to  protect 

Strange  wizards,  in  the  east  and  in  the  south. 

Oh,  let  us  keep  our  Irish  faith  intact! 

What  matter  if  we  fight  and  burn  and  slay 

In  civil  conflict — if  we  keep  alive 

Our  tribal  feuds  that  nourish  Irish  wit 

And  Irish  courage — just  so  long  as  we 

[40] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Worship  the  same  gods,  utter  the  same  prayers, 
And  cling  together  to  our  fathers'  faith! 
So  keep  our  Ireland  without  stain  or  taint — 
The  land  of  druid  faith  and  druid  saint. 

[The  BREHON  OF  ORIEL  steps  forward  and  sings  the 
Song  of  Ulster. 

THE  BREHON  OF  ORIEL  (singing) 

What  is  my  faith  ?    'T  is  the  faith  of  my  fathers. 

Who  are  my  gods,  then  ?    The  gods  ever  true. 
What  do  I  worship  ?    The  sweet  face  of  nature, 

Changing  each  day,  ever  old,  ever  new. 

Who  are  my  priests  ?    The  most  holy  of  druids. 

What  do  they  ask  for  ?    Obedience  and  prayer. 
What  do  they  give  me  ?    Pure  rest  and  contentment, 

Comfort  in  trouble  and  solace  from  care. 

Where  do  I  dwell  ?    In  the  bleak  land  of  Ulster. 

Why  do  I  love  her  ?    She's  barren  and  cold. 
What  is  her  charm  ?    She  inspires  my  devotion, 

Home  of  religion  that's  richer  than  gold. 

\While  the  BREHON  OF  ORIEL  is  still  singing,  the 
CHIEFTAIN  enters,  and  advances,  looking  around 
him,  while  the  others  are  intent  upon  listening. 
Attention  is  drawn  to  him;  the  KING  OF  LEIN- 
STER,  who  does  not  take  much  interest  in  the 
song,  is  the  first  to  notice  him. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN  (looking  round,  dazed) 

Whence  comes  this  multitude  of  ghosts  of  men  ? 
Why  sings  one  man  ?    Why  listen  all  the  rest  ? 

(to  himself) 
Do  they  not  know  that  all  things  are  a  dream  ? 

[41] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

That  gladness  vanishes  and  that  dire  fate 
May  in  a  moment  drown  their  joy  in  death? 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

Who 's  this  intruder  ?    By  his  garb  a  chief, 
With  mind  distraught,  a  victim  of  great  grief. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 
(after  whispering  to  the  HIGH  KING) 

Who  art  thou,  man  of  sorrow  ?    Who  art  thou, 
Victim  of  Care  ?    The  High  King  fain  would  know 
Thy  purpose  and  thy  aim  in  coming  here, 
Where  Ireland's  chiefs  are  met  on  Tara's  hill  ? 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 
(rousing  himself  and  looking  round) 

The  High  King!    Ireland's  chiefs  and  Tara's  hill! 
What!    These  are  men  with  eyes  to  see  and  hearts 
To  suffer!    They  shall  hear  my  winged  words, 
And,  while  I  rend  their  breasts  with  my  sad  tale, 
Perchance  I  shall  find  solace  in  my  own. 

THE  BREHON  OF  CONNAUGHT 
(at  a  glance  from  his  king) 

What  have  these  ravings  got  to  do  with  us  ? 
Why  stops  the  council  from  the  stated  work  ? 
My  lord  demands  that  business  be  resumed. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN  (pulling  himself  together) 

Ravings,  indeed,  and  business  forsooth! 

What  stated  work  should  Ireland's  chiefs  engage 

More  than  consideration  of  foul  crime 

And  horrid  murder  of  defenseless  babes  ? 

[THE  BREHON  OF  CONNAUGHT  tries  to  cover  his 
king;  the  KING  OF  ULSTER,  his  BREHON  and 
DRUID  look  fixedly  at  the  CHIEFTAIN;  the  KING 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

OF  MUNSTER  shakes  his  head  and  takes  a  drink; 
the  KING  OF  LEINSTER  farts  his  men  and  pre- 
pares to  step  down. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

Speak,  chieftain ;  Ireland's  council  is  prepared 
To  listen  to  the  tale  thou  hast  to  tell. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

(coming  down  and  placing  a  hand  on  the  CHIEFTAIN'S 
shoulder) 

High  King,  I  recognize  this  man  at  last, 
A  happier,  braver  chief  there  never  lived 
Till  care  and  sorrow  came  across  his  path. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 

Sorrow  and  care,  aye,  care  and  sorrow  deep 
Change  all  the  aspect  of  the  outer  man, 
And  blight  his  face  without,  his  heart  within. 

[He  steps  forward  quickly  and  throws  off  the  KING 
OF  LEINSTER'S  arm. 

Listen,  ye  men  of  Ireland !    I  was  once 
The  happiest  of  men:    I  had  a  home 
Where  sorrow  never  entered;  and  a  wife, 
Fairest  and  sweetest  of  our  western  maids. 
Cattle  I  had;  enough  of  simple  wealth; 
Followers  who  loved  me  and  who  loved  my  jests; 
And,  best  of  all,  two  lovely,  smiling  babes — 
A  boy,  who  had  his  mother's  eyes  and  hair, 
And  just  began  to  prattle  sweet,  fond  words; 
A  girl,  a  little  blossom,  six  months  old, 
Who  still  was  wondering  at  the  strange  new  world. 
My  days  were  spent  in  hunting  and  in  war; 
My  lord,  the  King  of  Connaught,  loved  me  well; 

[  'There  is  a  movement  among  the  men  of  Connaught. 

[43] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Td  played  with  him  in  childhood,  and  he  knew 
My  loyalty  and  courage,  and  full  oft — 
Too  oft,  so  well  I  loved  my  own  dear  home — 
He  bade  me  to  his  palace,  where  my  wife 
And  I  were  honored  over  other  guests. 

[He  looks  around  to  see  the  impression  he  has  made. 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 
On  with  your  tale. 

THE  KING  OF  MUNSTER 

It  makes  me  very  dry 
To  hear  so  long  a  story. 

[He  drinks. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

But  how  ends 
This  life  of  bliss  and  happiness  below  ? 

THE  CHIEFTAIN  (striking  an  attitude) 

One  morn  I  started  on  a  hunting  trip 

With  all  my  men,  and  as  we  ran  along 

We  sang  and  shouted  loud  for  very  joy. 

When  we  returned  at  eve,  we  found  my  home 

Burned,  and  my  cattle  gone;  and  my  two  babes 

Lying  amidst  the  women's  corpses,  where 

The  signs  of  strife  were  thickest,  and  their  blood 

Sprinkled  the  ruins;  and  my  baby  girl 

Lay  with  her  brains  dashed  out  against  the  wall. 

Hearing  his  moans,  we  traced  my  baby  boy, 

Wounded  but  breathing,  and  he  from  my  arms 

Looked  up  for  aid  I  could  not  give  to  him, 

Until  he  died. 

My  wife,  I  knew,  would  not  have  left  her  babes 

Had  life  been  in  her,  so  we  searched  and  searched 

Among  the  corpses,  but  't  was  all  in  vain, 

[44] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

For  horror  worse  than  death  was  kept  for  her. 

Next  morn  there  struggled  to  my  ruined  home, 

Sore  wounded  by  the  effort  she  had  made, 

A  little  slave  girl,  who  the  dread  tale  told 

Of  how  strange  men  had  dragged  my  wife  away; 

Of  how  their  leader — but  I  cannot  tell 

The  shameful  story — her  strength  failed  at  last — 

Maddened  at  the  resistance  she  had  made, 

He  slew  her,  after  he  had  had  his  will, 

And  threw  her  body  in  a  mountain  lake, 

That  I  might  never  see  her  face  again. 

Since  then  I  have  wandered  ever  far  and  near 

Imagining  the  horror  of  that  scene, 

And  conjuring  up  the  faces  of  my  dead. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

And  this  was  done  in  Ireland.    Such  a  crime 
Pollutes  the  very  ears  of  those  that  hear. 

THE  KING  OF  MUNSTER 
Give  him  to  drink;  let  him  forget  his  woes. 

[The  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER  goes  to  the  CHIEFTAIN 
with  tbe  cup;  the  CHIEFTAIN  gently  repulses  him. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 
Forgetfulness  cannot  be  thus  attained. 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 

Pray  to  the  gods,  man,  who  alone  can  give 
Peace  and  repose ;  perchance,  for  thou  art  young, 
Another  white-armed  wife  may  give  thee  joy. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 

I  want  no  other  wife.    I  want  mine  own — 
My  very  own,  the  wife  of  my  young  days ; 

[45] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

I  want  to  see  my  children  once  again — 
Can  your  gods  ever  give  them  back  to  me  ? 

\fThe  KING  OF  LEINSTER  during  the  CHIEFTAIN'S 
recital  has  been  watching  the  faces  around;  he 
has  observed  the  conscious  looks  of  the  men  of 
Connaught;  he  has  observed  the  sullen  grin  on 
the  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT'S  face;  and  he  has 
guessed  the  truth.  He  now  places  his  hand  again 
on  the  CHIEFTAIN'S  shoulder. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 
Hast  thought  of  vengeance,  man  ?    Who  did  this  crime  ? 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 

Vengeance?    But  who  should  wish  to  injure  me? 

No  man  could  ever  wish  to  injure  her? 

She  was  so  good.    And  who  had  heart  to  hurt 

My  little  children,  innocent  and  sweet  ? 

It  must  have  been  the  gods  or  fiends  from  hell. 

Trouble  not  me  with  vain  imaginings! 

[The  KING  OF  LEINSTER  gently  turns  the  CHIEFTAIN 
round  and  points  to  the  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT, 
who  is  grinning  at  the  scene. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 
Look  there! 

[The  CHIEFTAIN  catches  his  meaning  and  grasps  the 
truth. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 

What!    Can  my  king  have  done  this  thing? 
My  old,  my  trusted  friend,  with  whom  I  played 
In  childhood's  days — who  honored  me — and  her! 
I'll  tear  his  life  from  out  his  grinning  soul! 
Let  me  have  vengeance. 

[46] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

[The  CHIEFTAIN  rushes  at  the  KING  OF  CONN  AUGHT 
with  his  knife  drawn;  the  latter  continues  to  grin 
sardonically;  the  CHIEFTAIN  rushes  up  the  steps 
of  his  throne;  the  BREHON  OF  CONNAUGHT  re- 
ceives the  blow  and  is  wounded,  but  he  throws 
himself  on  the  CHIEFTAIN  and  saves  his  king. 
The  CHIEFTAIN  is  secured;  at  a  sign  from  the 
HIGH  KING,  the  KING  OF  LEINSTER  takes  charge 
of  the  CHIEFTAIN,  and  some  of  the  men  of 
Leinster  headed  by  the  BREHON  OF  LEINSTER, 
bustle  him  off  the  stage.  As  the  excitement  sub- 
sides  the  first  notes  are  heard  from  the  top  of  the 
hill,  and  PATRICK  appears  with  his  procession, 
consisting  of  the  escort  under  the  STEWARD,  the 
CRUCIFER  and  eight  Missionaries.  The  crowd 
below  turns  and  looks  at  the  descending  proces- 
sion; the  followers  of  PATRICK  chant  the  first  three 
verses  of  the  Raster  hymn,  the  "Pange  Lingua" 
When  the  procession  reaches  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
PATRICK,  his  CRUCIFER  and  the  eight  Mission- 
aries, come  forward  into  the  open  space  before 
the  thrones  while  the  rest  of  the  escort  falls  back. 

THE  STEWARD 

This  is  the  man,  High  King,  who  lit  the  fire. 
We  found  him  making  a  strange  sacrifice, 
Clad  in  strange  raiment,  with  these  followers, 
Chanting  strange  incantations,  and  we  brought 
Him  hither  straightway,  as  the  order  ran. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH  (to  PATRICK) 

Who  art  thou  ?    What  thy  name  ? 
And  thy  degree  ? 

PATRICK 
Hither  I  come  to  preach  the  cross  of  Christ. 

[47] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Sucat  my  British,  Patrick  my  Roman  name. 
Britain  my  birth  place,  where  my  father  was 
A  Roman  citizen  of  high  degree; 
A  Roman  magistrate  in  place  of  trust; 
A  Christian  deacon  active  in  the  church. 
Myself  in  boyhood  Irish  pirates  seized 
And  sold  to  slavery  in  far  Connaught. 
Six  years  I  served  my  master,  tending  flocks 
And  eating  bitter  bread  of  bondage, — 

THE  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT 
(interrupting) 

What! 

A  slave  from  Connaught!    Then  I  claim  this  man. 
Give  him  to  me.    He  '11  trouble  us  no  more. 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 

A  slave  from  Connaught!    As  I  heard  the  tale, 

This  Patrick  was  the  slave  of  old  Miliucc 

In  Ulster,  and  upon  returning  there, 

After  long  absence,  brought  down  fire  from  heaven 

To  burn  his  ancient  home  of  servitude; 

Or,  as  some  say,  Miliucc  destroyed  himself 

After  the  landing  of  his  former  slave. 

PATRICK 

It  matters  not.    For  six  long  years  I  toiled, 
Exile  from  Britain,  lost  to  kith  and  kin, 
Far  from  the  empire  of  immortal  Rome, 
Hearing  no  church  bell  in  a  heathen  land, 
Where  my  soul  starved  for  lack  of  sacred  food. 
And  then  I  fled— 

THE  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT 
(interrupting) 

A  slave  escaped  from  me! 

[48] 


-*;| 


2  9 


**^;          » 


§ 


W 


:? 

o 

& 

•< 

§ 
o 
nS 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 
Give  him  to  me.  High  King,  I  '11  deal  with  him. 

PATRICK  (ignoring  the  interruption) 

I  found  a  ship  upon  the  Leinster  coast. 

Laden  with  Irish  wolf-hounds ;  thanks  to  God, 

The  sailors  rough  received  the  fugitive. 

Led  by  His  hand,  I  traversed  stormy  seas 

And  desert  lands  until  in  Southern  Gaul 

My  soul  found  rest  in  Lerins'  holy  isle. 

Rude  and  uncultured  was  I ;  all  the  years 

Most  fit  for  study  and  for  learning's  joys 

In  servile  labors  had  been  spent;  and  I 

With  toilsome  effort  learned  to  read  and  write. 

But,  as  I  grew  to  manhood,  more  and  more 

God  called  to  me  in  a  peculiar  way, 

And  in  my  dreams  He  oft  reminded  me 

Of  Ireland  and  of  her  light-hearted  sons, 

Whose  merry  jests  and  kindly  spoken  words 

Had  eased  my  many  years  of  servitude. 

A  kindly  people,  but  without  the  faith 

And  without  knowledge  of  the  Most  High  God, 

And  of  His  Son,  who  died  upon  the  cross. 

But,  most  of  all,  in  dreams  there  called  to  me 

The  little  unborn  children  of  Fochlad, 

Doomed  not  to  know  the  gospel  of  the  Christ, 

Nor  hope  for  their  salvation.    I  resolved, 

Poor  and  unlettered  though  I  was,  to  preach 

The  gospel  to  them,  for  their  little  hands  • 

Tugged  at  my  heart  strings. 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 

Truly  this  man's  tale 
Affects  me  as  a  tale  of  simple  truth. 

THE  DRUID  OF  ORIEL 
But  see  you  not,  my  lord,  that  he  attacks 

[49] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
Ireland's  religion,  while  he  moves  your  heart. 

THE  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT 
He  is  my  slave;  give  him  to  me,  I  say. 

PATRICK  (unmoved) 

So  I  resolved  to  preach  the  gospel  here ; 

And  hence  from  Ireland  drive  the  demons  forth 

That  druids  call  to  batten  on  mankind. 

It  happened  that  the  Christians  in  this  land, 

The  few  that  live  as  slaves  in  the  far  south  .  .  . 

THE  KING  OF  MUNSTER 
These  are  the  Christians  that  I  spoke  about. 

\He  smiles  and  drinks. 
PATRICK 

Were  sheep  without  a  shepherd,  and  they  fell 

Into  Pelagian  heresy,  so  that 

Peter's  successor,  bishop  of  great  Rome,  .  .  . 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

I  thought  the  hand  of  Rome  would  soon  be  seen. 
Although  her  empire  vanishes  on  land, 
Through  this  new  faith  she  now  rules  o'er  men's  souls. 
We  Leinster  men  know  much  of  Roman  might. 

PATRICK  (patiently  and  courteously) 
Peter's  successor  sent  a  bishop  forth 
To  visit  the  neglected  Munster  flock; 
Palladius  was  his  name ;  last  year  he  came, 
But  died  before  his  mission  was  fulfilled. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

We  heard  of  him  in  Leinster,  where  he  died ; 
A  harmless  preacher  of  a  harmless  faith. 

[50] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 
PATRICK 

And  then  the  Lord  chose  me,  the  former  slave, 
To  do  His  bidding  and  to  travel  here 
To  found  His  church  in  Ireland,  and  to  preach 
Christ  crucified  upon  the  cross — to  you. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 

Why  did  you  light  the  fire  on  Beltane's  feast  ? 
Do  you  not  know  the  law  which  makes  it  crime. 

PATRICK 

The  law  I  knew ;  the  prophecy  likewise. 

And,  since  I  come  to  drive  the  demons  forth 

And  break  the  druid  power,  I  challenged  thus 

Their  ancient  custom,  and  defied  their  wrath. 

It  happened  further  that  this  morning  was 

The  Easter  morn,  and  on  this  holy  day 

We  Christians  celebrate  the  paschal  feast 

Which  Christ,  our  Lord,  founded  before  His  death, 

In  the  full  robes  a  Christian  bishop  wears 

I  did  mine  office;  as  the  fire  I  lit, 

A  little  flame,  it  shot  up  to  the  skies 

And  reddened  all  the  heavens,  thus  showing  well 

The  challenge  I  intend  to  issue  forth. 

And  now,  High  King,  most  mighty  Laogaire, 

Son  of  great  Niall,  I  am  eager  to  contend 

With  all  the  druids,  and  to  show  that  Christ, 

My  Master  dear,  who  died  upon  the  cross, 

Has  sent  me  here  to  save  your  souls  from  hell. 

Give  me  the  chance  to  prove  my  God  is  truth. 

THE  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT 

Give  me  the  slave;  I'll  slay  him  and  his  band, 
And  we  can  feast  and  revel  till  the  dawn, 
Without  the  need  of  further  listening. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 

Nay;  I  would  hear  the  words  he  hath  to  say: 
Though  how  a  god,  who  died  upon  a  cross, 
Can  be  a  god  of  truth  is  hard  to  see. 

THE  DRUID  OF  ORIEL 

Disgrace  it  would  be,  after  this  fierce  speech, 
Not  to  take  up  his  challenge  and  to  show 
How  weak  his  power  against  the  druid  faith. 

PATRICK 

Ready  I  stand  for  challenge  or  for  death — 
A  martyr's  death  would  be  for  me  a  crown. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

For  my  part  I  would  see  this  Roman  priest 
Fight  'gainst  the  druids  with  his  magic  spells. 

[PATRICK  moves  forward  to  speak. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER 

My  master  bids  me  say  that  he  demands 
The  council  do  adjurn  until  such  time, 
As,  having  feasted  well,  we  may  decide 
What  steps  to  take;  a  dry  and  thirsty  man 
Cannot  do  justice  or  even  keep  awake. 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 

It  is,  besides,  our  Irish  fashion  old 

To  give  due  thought  upon  such  questions  twice — 

In  morning  light  and  after  midday  feast. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 

My  lord,  the  King,  decrees  that  we  adjourn. 
He  has  prepared  a  mighty  feast  for  all, 
And  bids  all  be  his  guests.    After  the  feast 
We  will  our  wonted  revels  hold,  and  spend 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

The  hours  in  pleasure ;  then,  when  evening  comes, 
We  shall  return  and  settle  this  dispute 
For  wisdom's  part  is  to  do  naught  in  haste, 
But  settle  all  things  after  due  debate. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

Welcome  are  guests  to  Tara's  banquet  hall. 
Steward,  take  charge  of  Patrick  and  his  band. 
Music,  strike  up !  we'll  march  to  our  repast. 

[The  Retainers  sing  the  Chorus  of  Retreat. 

CHORUS 

Let  us  march  with  joy  and  singing, 

Revel  high  to  hold ; 
Let  us  keep  the  hillside  ringing, 

As  was  done  of  old ; 
For  all  Ireland's  life  we  cherish, 

'Neath  our  holy  hill ; 
Now  may  wrath  and  discord  perish ! 

Ireland  a  nation  still! 

\_The  five  processions  march  off  in  the  same  direction , 
singing;  the  HIGH  KING  closing  the  march.  As 
the  Kings  pass  PATRICK  they  regard  him  with 
anger,  contempt,  interest,  sympathy  or  dignity, 
according  to  their  respective  characters.  As  the 
music  dies  away,  PATRICK  turns  to  his  followers, 
the  Cross  is  raised,  the  first  verse  of  the  "Pange 
Lingua"  is  chanted,  and  the  Missionaries  are 
led  away  by  the  STEWARD. 


INTERMEZZO 


[53] 


SCENE  II 

same  as  Scene  I.    'The  evening  of  the  same  day. 

[The  STEWARD  OF  THE  HIGH  KING,  the  four  Servants 
and  the  Retainers  of  the  HIGH  KING  enter  bear- 
ing torches. 

THE  STEWARD 

Now  that  the  feast  is  o'er,  the  revels  closed, 
The  chiefs  will  soon  return,  and  I  must  go 
To  bring  forth  Patrick  and  his  followers 
To  plead  their  cause  before  the  Irish  kings. 

(to  the  Servants) 

Arrange  the  torches  so  that  all  may  see, 
And  make  the  evening  seem  as  bright  as  day. 

\fthe  Retainers  arrange  torches  and  light  braziers. 
'The  STEWARD  goes  out.  Noise  heard  without. 

FIRST  SERVANT 

Here  come  the  revellers !    Right  in  their  midst 
The  jolly  King  of  Munster  and  his  friends. 

SECOND  SERVANT 

The  good  cheer  that  a  feast  at  Tara  gives 
Has  made  all  merry  and  not  least  the  King. 

\To  the  sound  of  music  the  Retainers  of  the  various 
kings  enter  tumultuously ',  led  by  the  DRUID  OF 
LEINSTER.  After  them^  comes  the  KING  OF 
MUNSTER,  supported  by  his  BREHON  and 
DRUID.  He  is  heavily  intoxicated  and  is  led  to 

[54] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

his  seat.  In  the  midst  of  the  crowd  is  seen 
the  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT,  fighting  drunk  and 
guarded  by  his  BREHON  and  DRUID  until  he  too 
reaches  his  seat.  When  the  music  closes  all  is  in 
picturesque  confusion. 

FIRST  SERVANT 
A  song!    A  song!    Let 's  have  a  song  from  Munster. 

SECOND  SERVANT 

The  Munster  men  have  always  drunk  the  most 

And  sung  the  best  of  all  true  Irishmen. 

A  drinking  song  from  Munster,  I  demand. 

\fThe  Retainers  cry,  "A  song!"  "A  song!"  "A  song 
from  MUNSTER!"  The  DRUID  OF  MUNSTER 
looks  at  his  King,  and  receiving  a  nod  of  assent, 
helps  the  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER  down  from  his 
seat  and  pushes  him  to  the  center  of  the  space 
before  the  thrones;  the  Druid  then  climbs  stagger- 
ing to  his  seat  by  the  King.  ^The  Retainers 
gather  round  the  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER,  who 
sings  a  Drinking  Song. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER  (singing) 

Old  Ireland 's  the  land  of  song  and  dance, 

The  land  where  the  stranger  may  see  at  a  glance 

That  good  liquor  mellows  our  hearts  and  our  brains, 

In  a  way  that  no  foreigners'  liquor  attains ; 

For  it  ripens  and  lightens  and  frees  us  from  care, 

It  banishes  sorrow  and  drives  out  despair; 

Then  let  us  step  quicker, 

There's  no  other  liquor, 

With  ours  can  at  all  compare! 

CHORUS 
The  chiefs  return  will  call  us  away  from  our  jollity, 

[55] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

So  fill  your  cups  and  give  yourselves  up  to  frivolity, 
We  '11  drink  till  we  wink  and  blink  and  sink. 
Like  Irishmen  unafraid. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER 

Old  Ireland 's  the  home  of  wit  and  fun, 

Where  welcome  is  given  to  every  one, 

Who  takes  in  good  part  both  the  laugh  and  the  jest, 

And  never  bears  malice  or  wrath  in  his  breast. 

It 's  the  land  where  good  fellowship  breathes  in  the  air, 

And  all  men  are  ready  their  fortunes  to  share ; 

Though  friends  may  be  many, 

There  cannot  be  any, 

With  ours  caji  at  all  compare! 

CHORUS 
The  chiefs  return,  etc. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER 

Old  Ireland  has  many  a  chief  and  sage, 

Whom  our  taste  for  good  liquor  does  often  enrage ; 

They  blame  the  good  "Creature,"  and  lecture,  and  scold, 

Forgetting  it  makes  us  all  reckless  and  bold ; 

It  excites  our  wild  natures  with  courage  so  rare, 

That  an  Irishman 's  ready  all  perils  to  dare ; 

There  may  be  feet  lighter, 

But  there 's  not  a  fighter 

With  us  can  at  all  compare! 

CHORUS 
The  chiefs'  return,  etc. 

\As  the  song  ends  and  the  BREHON  OF  MUNSTER 
goes  back  to  his  seat,  some  of  the  Retainers  go 
to  their  places,  ^he  KING  OF  LEINSTER  enters , 
smiles  indulgently  on  the  scene  and  goes  to  his 
throne.  'The  KING  OF  ORIEL  enters  with  his 

[56] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

BREHON  and  DRUID;  be  sadly  shakes  bis  bead 
at  tbe  scene  of  tumult  and  goes  to  bis  seat.  The 
four  Servants  and  some  of  tbe  Retainers  bave 
not  perceived  tbe  entrance  of  tbe  Kings  and  move 
about  excitedly. 

FIRST  SERVANT 

A  dance!    A  dance!    What's  song  without  a  dance! 
SECOND  SERVANT 

As  Ireland  has  her  songs,  she  has  her  dances, 
Unrivalled  in  their  merriment  and  grace. 
Come,  let  the  best  among  you  dance  for  us. 

\_Eigbt  young  men — two  eacb  from  Munster,  Ulster, 
Connaugbt  and  Leinster — step  forwardand  begin 
to  dance.  When  the  music  ends  and  during  the 
applause  that  follows ,  the  HIGH  KING  enters  with 
the  BREHON  and  DRUID  OF  MEATH,  conducted 
by  the  STEWARD.  He  smiles  at  the  scene  and  goes 
to  his  seat.  The  Retainers  settle  to  their  places. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 
(raising  bis  voice) 

The  time  for  revelry  has  now  expired. 

The  High  King  bids  that  silence  be  proclaimed. 

[There  is  a  gradual  settling  down  of  the  crowd  under 
the  urging  of  the  STEWARD,  The  KING  OF 
MUNSTER  and  the  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT  fall 
into  drunken  sleep.  But  after  their  drinking, 
dancing  and  revelling,  tbe  Retainers  can  not  en- 
tirely settle  down  at  once. 

The  High  King  begs  our  sacred  singer  here, 
Druid  of  Erin,  now  to  sing  the  song 
Which  cheers  the  hearts  of  loyal  Irishmen 
More  than  the  utterances  of  drunken  joy. 

[57] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

\¥be  DRUID  OF  MEATH  steps  forward  and  sings  the 
Song  of  Erin. 

THE  DRUID  OF  MEATH  (singing) 

Dear  is  the  island,  the  land  of  our  mothers, 

Dear  is  the  land  where  our  forefathers  died; 
Dear  is  the  country  where  all  men  are  brothers — 
Great  is  our  love  for  her,  great  is  our  pride. 

Love  for  her  meadows  fair, 

Love  for  her  mountains  bare, 
Love  for  the  marsh-land  and  love  for  the  glen. 

Pride  in  her  gallant  sons, 

Pride  that  each  heart  overruns — 
Land  of  pure  women  and  land  of  brave  men. 

CHORUS 

'T  is  Erin,  dear  Erin, 

The  green  isle  of  Erin, 
The  island  of  Erin,  that  all  of  us  love; 

We  'd  fight  for  her  honored  name, 

We  'd  die  for  her  righteous  fame — 
The  island  of  Erin  that  all  of  us  love. 

THE  DRUID  OF  MEATH 

Though  we  are  ready  to  anger  each  other, 

We  quickly  forgive  when  the  harsh  word  is  by; 
But  if  Erin 's  insulted  by  one  or  another 
Gladly  we  'd  fight  for  her,  gladly  we  'd  die: 

Fight  for  her  ancient  laws, 

Fight  in  her  freedom's  cause, 
Fight  for  her  over  and  over  again, 

Die  for  her  honored  name, 

Die  for  her  righteous  fame — 
The  land  of  pure  women  and  land  of  brave  men. 

[58] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 
CHORUS 

T  is  Erin,  dear  Erin,  etc. 

\_While  the  last  chorus  is  being  sung,  the  STEWARD, 
who  has  left  during  the  songy  returns  conducting 
PATRICK  and  bis  followers,  who  take  up  a  position 
in  the  center  of  the  space  before  the  thrones,  the 
CRUCIFER  holding  up  the  cross.  At  the  same 
time,  the  BREHON  OF  LEINSTER  brings  in  the 
CHIEFTAIN,  who  seats  himself  moodily  below  the 
KING  OF  LEINSTER,  alternately  glancing  fiercely 
at  the  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT  and  brooding  in 
melancholy  fashion.  The  council  settles  itself. 
PATRICK  faces  the  HIGH  KING. 

THE  BREHON  OF  MEATH 

Now  we  will  listen  to  the  argument 
Made  to  us  by  this  former  British  slave. 

(to  PATRICK) 

The  High  King  bids  you  speak,  but  bids  you  fear 
How  you  insult  belief  in  holy  things. 
The  druids  here  will  quick  refute  your  words, 
Unless  you  prove  the  truth  of  what  you  say. 

PATRICK 

I  come  to  tell  you  of  a  living  God. 

I  come  to  tell  you  of  His  son,  who  died 

Upon  the  cross,  to  cleanse  you  of  your  sins. 

I  come  to  tell  you  of  a  faith  that  spread 

O'er  all  the  world  of  men — a  faith  that  spread 

Despite  of  persecution  and  the  death 

Of  many  martyrs:   until  Rome  herself, 

Head  of  the  world,  drove  out  her  native  gods 

And  those  she  borrowed  from  the  mystic  East — 

Isis,  the  mighty  mother,  Mithra,  all — 

And  worshiped  humbly  at  the  cross  of  Christ. 

[59] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

The  Roman  Empire,  which  includes  the  bounds 
Of  all  the  civilized  world,  is  Christian  now, 
And  hopes  this  distant  island,  which  refused 
To  bow  to  Roman  strength,  will  recognize 
And  seize  on  Roman  wisdom — 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER  (interrupting) 

What  said  I? 

When  first  this  man  spoke  to  us  I  declared 
It  was  a  scheme  of  Roman  statesmen  wise, 
Who  could  not  conquer  Ireland,  to  ensnare 
Her  valiant  peoples  into  bondage  deep. 

(to  PATRICK) 

We  do  not  want  your  Rome,  your  Roman  peace, 
Your  Roman  roads,  your  Roman  laws,  and  all 
That  makes  your  Roman  Empire,  for  we  love 
Our  Irish  freedom  and  our  Irish  chiefs. 
Britain  has  lost  its  heart,  and  holds  out  hands 
In  suppliant  prayer  for  help  when  we  invade, 
And  cannot  help  herself;  and  we  will  not 
Give  up  our  ancient  gods,  if  that  implies 
End  of  our  freedom  and  our  liberties. 
We  Irishmen  are  free  and  will  obey 
None  but  our  native  princes  and  our  laws. 

PATRICK 

Alas,  my  lord,  I  did  not  mean  to  rouse 
So  great  a  storm  of  protest,  but  I  say 
That  without  settled  peace  and  settled  laws, 
Such  as  Rome  gives  its  subjects,  none  can  hope 
That  Ireland  ever  will  her  freedom  keep. 
Unless  she  rules  herself,  and  she  unites 
Her  chiefs  and  peoples  in  a  common  bond 
Of  civil  wisdom  in  a  mighty  state, 
Dissensions  fierce  will  tear  her  chiefs  apart 

[60] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

And  make  them  subject  to  a  foreign  race. 

Whose  hand  will  heavier  be  than  that  of  Rome. 

But,  let  us  not  waste  time  in  vain  debate; 

My  gospel  teaches  true  obedience 

To  chiefs  and  kings,  and  ever  to  repay 

To  Caesar  what  is  Caesar's.    Let  me  now 

Turn  rather  to  the  law  of  temperance. 

The  Irish  nature,  in  its  love  of  life, 

Rejects  restraint  and  bubbles  o'er  with  joy 

Or  sadness ;  ye  refuse  to  limit  cheer, 

And  in  excess  find  all  your  merriment, 

Just  as  to  sudden  wrath  ye  give  yourselves, 

Or  sudden  grief.    Look  around  you  now,  my  lords, 

And  see  the  heavy  stupor  which  has  come 

Upon  the  wild,  rejoicing,  shouting  crowd 

Which  filled  this  place  a  little  hour  ago. 

My  gospel  teaches  temperance,  and  would 

Drive  from  your  land  the  curse  of  drunkenness. 

THE  KING  OF  MUNSTER 

The  curse  of  drunkenness !    Come,  my  good  man, 
You  know  not  what  you  say.    Take  a  deep  draught, 

(offering  cup) 

And  you  will  not  repeat  those  foolish  words. 
The  gods  gave  us  good  liquor,  and  with  it 
Forgetfulness  of  sorrow  for  a  while, 
And  brilliant  dreams  which  banish  heavy  care; 
And  make  the  poor  forget  their  poverty, 
The  sick  their  sickness,  and  the  sad  their  grief. 

PATRICK  (smiling) 

But  when  the  waking  comes,  and  the  dreams  end 
In  horrid  visions  of  fantastic  shapes 
Of  snakes,  and  bats,  and  crawling,  grinning  toads. 
Then  do  you  think  of  holy  temperance 

[61] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

And  promise  to  abstain  till  the  next  time 
Temptation  tries  your  will.    I  promise  you. 
That  if  you  sober  be  and  quite  abstain 
From  liquor,  you  shall  never  harbor  snakes 
In  Ireland,  for  I  will  them  straight  expel. 

THE  DRUID  OF  MUNSTER 

Abstain  from  liquor,  give  up  the  best  gift 

The  gods  bestowed!    If  it  be  such  a  sin 

To  drink  good  liquor,  wherefore  does  the  earth 

And  fruitful  nature  let  the  liquor  be 

And  with  it  grateful  thirst  to  savor  it  ? 

If  this  thy  teaching  be,  then  I  remain 

True  to  the  ancient  gods  of  tolerance 

And  kindness  to  the  weakness  of  mankind. 

[He  drinks. 

PATRICK 

A  God  of  chastity  I  bring  to  you ; 

A  God  of  peace  on  earth,  who  would  put  down 

The  cruel  wars  which  ravish  Irish  lands 

And  wreak  such  havoc  among  Irish  folk. 

I  preach  a  God  who  hates  the  murderous 

And  savage  customs  of  your  tribal  wars, 

And  would  make  Ireland,  'neath  his  gentle  sway, 

A  fertile  and  a  smiling  land  of  peace. 

THE  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT  (abruptly) 

Peace  didst  thou  say  ?    Ireland,  a  land  of  peace! 
Why  Irishmen  love  fighting  most  of  all; 
We  joy  in  battle,  and  the  strongest  man 
Gets  women,  cattle,  and  the  ripe  rewards 
Of  valor ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  despise 
Your  prating  talk  of  peace  and  chastity. 

PATRICK  (indignantly) 
I  argue  not  with  vile  and  vicious  men, 

[62] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

Who  make  parade  of  passions  and  who  speak 
In  sneering,  boastful  words ;  for  such  as  you 
My  God  provides  a  hell  of  fire  and  flame, 
Worse  than  your  false  gods  ever  did  conceive, 
Or  their  false  priests,  the  druids;  and  we  all 
Should  suffer  in  eternal  hell,  had  not 
The  Son  of  God  himself  come  down  to  earth, 
And  died  a  shameful  death  upon  the  cross, 
To  save  all  those  who  do  repent  their  sins 
And  trust  in  Him. 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 

Did  your  god  live  on  earth 

And  die  a  shameful  death  ?    Then  those  who  slew 
Were  mightier  than  he.    A  hero  god, 
As  some  we  worship,  or  sweet  Nature's  self, 
Never  can  die,  but,  oft  renewing  life, 
Gives  signs  to  us  of  life  beyond  the  grave. 
The  trees  above  us  speak  of  Nature's  god ; 
Their  soaring  height  that  ever  seeks  the  sun 
Draws  our  eyes  upward,  when  we  would  adore ; 
Their  length  of  years  and  calm,  majestic  growth 
Rebuke  our  petty  love  for  earth-born  days. 
What  sort  of  hero  was  your  Son  of  God 
Who  lived  on  earth  and  died  ? 

PATRICK 

No  warrior  he; 

A  man  of  sorrows,  who  loved  all  mankind 
And  with  his  life  atoned  for  all  their  sins. 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 

Worship  a  dead  man,  that  I  cannot  do. 
Our  gods  are  young  and  beautiful,  or  else 
Aged  and  splendid;  and  to  us  they  are 
The  mysteries  of  life  and  death ;  they  show 

[63] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

In  each  returning  year  fair  Nature's  work 
Upon  the  earth,  or  else  explain  the  strange 
And  haunting  fancies  of  the  minds  of  men. 
Shall  we  renounce  them  all  and  in  their  place 
Take  the  pale  shadow  of  a  god  that  died, 
And  could  not  save  himself? 

THE  DRUID  OF  ORIEL 

But  worse  than  all, 

For  this  dead  man  we  're  asked  to  throw  away 
Our  fathers'  faith,  that  faith  which  we  have  held 
Throughout  the  life  of  Erin,  which  has  made 
Erin  the  last  home  of  druidic  lore, 
Where,  free  from  Rome  and  free  from  foreign  foes, 
The  ancient  worship  has  been  firmly  fixed. 

(to  PATRICK) 

What  can  you  give  us  in  exchange  for  this  ? 
What  consolation  for  abandonment 
Of  what  our  fathers  taught,  our  mothers  loved  ? 

PATRICK  (solemnly) 

Immortal  life  I  promise  to  all  those 

Who  trust  in  God  and  in  His  only  Son, 

Who  died  upon  the  cross— immortal  life 

In  heaven,  where  all  believers,  after  death, 

Shall  see  His  face,  and  praise  and  bless  His  name. 

But  for  the  wicked  and  those  who  refuse 

To  hear  His  gospel,  I  most  solemnly, 

As  priest  of  God  and  bishop  in  His  church, 

Declare  eternal  punishment  in  hell, 

Where  flames  shall  torture,  and  where,  worst  of  all, 

They  ne'er  shall  look  upon  the  face  of  God. 

THE  HIGH  KING 
But,  Patrick,  is  this  fearful  fate  prescribed 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

For  those,  who  never  had  the  chance  to  hear 
Your  teaching,  for  the  little  unborn  babes, 
Like  those  of  Fochland,  whose  sweet  memory 
Made  you  come  hither,  or  for  those  of  old, 
Who  lived  and  died  in  the  druidic  faith, 
Our  fathers  and  the  heroes  of  the  past  ? 

PATRICK  (troubled) 

Most  High  King,  son  of  Niall,  great  Laogaire 

I  know  not  how  to  answer.    I  'm  unskilled 

And  quite  unlearned,  so  I  leave  to  God 

The  solving  of  such  problems  as  you  set. 

I  know  that  God  is  mighty  and  is  just 

And  do  not  fear  to  leave  to  Him  the  fate 

Of  those  who  have  not  heard  His  blessed  word. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

I  can  not  leave  my  question.    You  must  tell 
The  answer.    Could  I  bear  to  be  in  heaven, 
The  heaven  of  Christians,  while  my  father  lay 
In  torture  of  such  flames  as  you  describe 
Burn  in  the  Christian  hell,  or  would  I  choose 
To  spend  eternity  in  any  place, 
Where  great  Cuchulainn,  Ireland's  hero  famed, 
Is  not  revered?    Answer  that  question  straight! 

PATRICK 

The  God,  whom  I  adore,  to  whom  I  pray 
Shall  answer  the  appeal. 

O  God  on  high! 
(ecstatically  praying) 

Help  Thy  poor  servant  to  uphold  Thy  cause 
And  give  a  sign  from  heaven,  that  these  great  kings, 
These  chiefs  of  Ireland,  may  Thy  power  behold 
And  come  to  trust  in  Thee,  the  living  God, 
And  in  the  mercy  of  Thy  blessed  Son. 

[65] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

[PATRICK  raises  bis  bands;  bis  followers  sing  four 
lines  of  the  "Veni  Creator ';  all  follow  the  direc- 
tion of  PATRICK'S  eyes;  he  makes  a  gesture  of 
command. 

PATRICK 

Appear  Cuchulainn,  appear,  appear, 

In  such  guise  as  thou  lived'st  upon  this  earth, 

[Music  is  beard  and  the  APPARITION  OF  CUCHULAINN, 
in  ghostly  gray  apparel  with  a  long  lance  in  his 
bandy  comes  mysteriously  into  view.  'The  KING 
OF  MUNSTER  is  terrified,  as  are  the  Retainers  of 
all  the  Kings;  the  DRUIDS  are  unembarrassed; 
the  KING  OF  CONNAUGHT  grins;  the  KING  OF 
LEINSTER  smiles  sceptically;  the  KING  OF  ORIEL 
is  interested;  the  HIGH  KING  rises  from  his  seat; 
the  CHIEFTAIN,  who  has  now  come  up  to  PATRICK, 
does  not  look  at  the  APPARITION,  but  gazes  into 
PATRICK'S  ecstatic  face. 

PATRICK  (triumphantly) 

Praise  God  for  all  His  mercies. 
(to  the  APPARITION) 

Who  art  thou  ? 

THE  APPARITION 
I  was  Cuchulainn.    God  sent  me  here. 

THE  HIGH  KING 

Art  thou  indeed  Cuchulainn,  dead  long  since, 
And  passed  into  the  spirit  world  ? 

THE  APPARITION 

I  am. 
[66] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

THE  KING  OF  ORIEL 
At  whose  command  came'st  thou  to  meet  us  here  ? 

THE  APPARITION 
By  God's  command,  His  servant  Patrick's  word. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

'T  is  magic  brings  that  vain  appearance  here. 

(to  PATRICK) 

'T  is  clever  magic  by  a  wizard  wrought. 
Better  than  ever  druids  tried  to  do. 

(to  bis  Retainers) 
Go  up  and  see  the  nature  of  the  spell. 

[Some  of  the  Retainers  of  Leinster  and  a  few  others 
begin  to  climb  tbe  hillside.  PATRICK  and  the 
APPARITION  pay  no  attention  to  the  skeptical 
king. 

THE  DRUID  OF  ORIEL 

If  thou  art  the  Cuchulainn  that  we  praise, 
Whose  deeds  we  sing  in  Ulster,  where  the  songs 
Of  the  Red  Branch  are  written  to  thy  fame, 
Tell  all  these  waiting  souls  the  druids'  truth 
And  scorn  to  answer  to  this  wizard's  words. 

PATRICK  (slowly) 

Spirit  of  eld,  the  High  King,  Laogaire, 
Will  not  believe  in  God  the  Father's  love, 
Nor  in  His  Son,  nor  in  the  Holy  Ghost, 
And  will  not  hear  my  word,  until  he  knows 
Whither  thy  spirit  fled  upon  thy  death, 
For  he  desires  to  be  where  thou  dost  rule. 

THE  APPARITION 

Great  was  my  courage,  hard  as  was  my  sword, 
Yet  down  to  hell  my  soul  was  carried  off 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
To  suffer  in  red  fire. 

PATRICK 

Oh,  tell  the  king, 

Oh !   tell  King  Laogaire,  tell  all  within 
The  hearing  of  thy  voice,  that  God  is  good 
And  does  but  seek  the  soul  of  men  to  save. 
Tell  him  to  look  for  mercy  and  to  pray 
That  they  may  meet  each  other  in  the  heaven 
Thou  may'st  not  enter. 

THE  APPARITION  (to  the  HIGH  KING) 

Listen,  thou,  to  me 

And  save  thy  soul  from  death  by  heeding  well 
The  message  of  the  servant  loved  of  God, 
The  Bishop  Patrick. 

[The  APPARITION  vanishes  and  there  is  silence  for  a 
moment. 

THE  KING  OF  LEINSTER 

Did  I  not  say  true 
That  this  was  clever  magic  ? 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 
(at  last  making  up  his  mind  to  speak) 

Did  I  hear 
That  we  could  meet  each  other  after  death  ? 

PATRICK 

Yea,  weary  soul,  God's  grace  is  infinite, 
And  He  loves  all  His  creatures,  great  and  small, 
And  would  not  have  them  perish.    Who  art  thou  ? 
A  chieftain  by  thy  garb,  but  sad  at  heart, 
Unless  thy  looks  belie  thee. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 

Thou  say'st  right, 
[68] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

A  man  unhappy,  who  in  one  short  day 
Lost  all  that  makes  life  worth  the  living;  all 
The  joy  went  out  of  me  the  day  I  lost 
My  wife  and  babes;  they  died;  and  I  am  left 
Alone  with  grief. 

PATRICK 

Alas !  poor  suffering  soul ! 
Look  on  the  cross,  for  He  who  died  thereon 
Bore  all  for  you  and  sent  His  minister 
To  comfort  and  sustain  you.    Oh,  believe! 
And  thou  shalt  see  thy  loved  ones  once  again. 

THE  DRUID  OF  ORIEL  (furiously) 

This  false  magician  is  making  converts  now. 
Look  how  he  stoops  toward  him  and  entreats 
His  listening  ears!    Look  how  the  stupid  crowd 
Is  filled  with  pity  and  forgets  this  rank 
And  wicked  blasphemy  against  the  gods. 
I  cannot  bear  it. 

\¥he  KING  OF  ORIEL  tries  to  check  bim,  but  be 
throws  off  his  hand. 

And  I'll  send  him  straight 
To  see  what  sort  of  life  is  after  death. 

\¥he  DRUID  OF  ORIEL  rushes  furiously  at  PATRICK, 
but  the  CHIEFTAIN  intercepts  the  blow  and  is 
struck  down.  The  DRUID  drops  bis  knife. 
'There  is  general  excitement.  ¥he  KING  OF 
LEINSTER  pushes  forward.  Even  the  KING  OF 
MUNSTER  rises  from  bis  seat.  Only  the  KING 
OF  CONNAUGHT  continues  to  grin  sardonically. 
*The  STEWARD  tries  to  restore  order.  'Tbe  KING 
OF  ORIEL  seizes  bis  DRUID. 

PATRICK 
Look  up,  my  son,  look  on  the  cross  of  Christ. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
THE  CHIEFTAIN 

And  I  shall  see  my  loved  ones  once  again. 

I  do  believe,  I  must  believe  in  Christ. 

Help  me,  my  father;  set  me  on  the  road 

That  leads  to  Christian  heaven.    Tell  me  the  way. 

PATRICK 

Forgive,  that  thou  may'st  truly  be  forgiven ; 
Forgive  thine  enemies. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 

Yes,  all  except 

The  King  of  Connaught.    I  cannot  forgive 
The  King  of  Connaught. 

PATRICK 

Look,  my  son,  upon 
The  cross,  and  think  what  Christ  had  to  forgive. 

[The  CHIEFTAIN  grows  weaker •,  and  is  supported 
with  difficulty  by  the  KINGS  OF  ORIEL  and 
LEINSTER;  the  HIGH  KING  comes  down  from  his 
seat  with  his  DRUID  and  BREHON.  The  KING 
OF  CONNAUGHT  comes  down  closely  surrounded 
by  his  Retainers  >  fear  ing  violence. 

THE  CHIEFTAIN 

Him  also  I  forgive.  .  .  .  But  I  lose  strength. 
My  eyes  are  growing  dim.    I  cannot  see 
The  cross  of  Christ. 

[The  CRUCIFER  holds  it  before  him. 

Father,  I  cannot  see 

The  cross  of  Christ.  .  .  .  Shall  I  be  shut  outside 
The  gates  of  heaven  ?    Make  me  to  see  the  cross, — 
For  I  must  meet  my  wife  and  babes  again. 

[70] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

PATRICK  (deeply  moved) 

This,  my  first  convert,  gives  his  life  for  me. 

And  can  I  not  a  miracle  perform 

To  aid  his  dying  sight?    If  God  could  bring 

A  ghost  from  hell,  at  my  beseeching  Him, 

Will  He  not  listen  to  my  prayers  again, 

And  set  the  symbol  of  salvation  high 

Upon  the  Hill  of  Tara,  as  a  sign 

That  God  has  come  to  Ireland  to  remain 

And  make  this  favored  land  the  Isle  of  Saints. 

[PATRICK  blesses  the  CHIEFTAIN,  then  falls  on  his 
knees ,  and  looks  ecstatically  up  the  hillside.  'The 
"Veni  Creator"  begins ,  the  torches  go  out  and  a 
great  white  cross  appears  far  up  the  hillside;  all 
except  the  HIGH  KING  and  the  five  DRUIDS  fall 
on  their  knees;  the  CHIEFTAIN  staggers  to  his  feet, 
sees  the  cross  and  falls  back  dead.  As  the  "Veni 
Creator"  finally  closes^  the  followers  of  PATRICK 
carry  out  the  body  of  the  CHIEFTAIN,  ^he  music 
ends)  the  cross  disappears  and  the  hillside  is  illu- 
mined as  all  slowly  withdraw. 


[71] 


NOTES 

Page  30.  //  seems  to  come  from  Slaney,  just  across 

The  valley  y 

"The  distance  of  Tara  from  Slaney  is  about  ten  miles."  (Bury,  p. 
104,  note.) 

Page  38.  'The  valiant  men  of  Leinster  oft  have  shown 

That  Laogaire  is  King  in  name  alone. 

On  the  wars  between  Laogaire  and  Leinster;  see  Bury,  p.  353. 

Page  43.  Sucat  my  British,  Patrick  my  Roman  name. 

Britain  my  birth-place. 

On  the  names  of  Patrick;  see  Bury,  pp.  23,  291.  On  his  birth-place; 
Idem,  pp,  322-325. 

And  sold  to  slavery  in  far  Connaught. 
On  the  place  of  Patrick's  servitude;  see  Bury,  pp.  27-30,  334-336. 

Page  50.  But  died  before  his  mission  was  fulfilled. 

On  the  mission  of  Palladius  to  Ireland  in  431;  see  Bury,  pp.  54-58, 
342-344. 

Page  66.     The  apparition  of  Cuchulainn. 

"In  the  "Phantom  Chariot  of  Cuchulinn"  it  is  related  that  Patrick 
went  to  Tara  to  enjoin  belief  upon  the  King  of  Erin,  upon  Laoghaire, 
son  of  Nial,  for  he  was  King  of  Erin  at  the  time,  and  would  not  believe 
in  the  Lord,  though  he  had  preached  unto  him.  'By  no  means  will  I 
believe  in  thee,  nor  yet  in  God,'  said  the  heathen  monarch  to  the  saint, 
'until  thou  shalt  call  up  Cuchulinn  in  all  his  dignity,  as  he  is  recorded 
in  the  old  stories,  that  I  may  see  him,  and  that  I  may  address  him  in  my 
presence  here ;  after  that  I  will  believe  in  thee.'  Upon  this  St.  Patrick 
conjured  up  the  hero,  so  that  he  appeared  to  the  King  in  his  chariot  as 
of  old. . .  . 

[73] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

TWORDS    OF    CUCHULAINN    TO    KlNG    LAOGAIREl 

LITERALLY  TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  IRISH.  J 

"My  little  body  was  scarred — 
With  Lugaid  the  victory: 
Demons  carried  off  my  soul 
Into  the  red  charcoal. 

"I  played  the  swordlet  on  them, 
I  plied  on  them  the  gae-bolga; 
I  was  in  my  concert  victory 
With  the  demon  in  pain. 

"Great  as  was  my  heroism, 
Hard  as  was  my  sword, 
The  devil  crushed  me  with  one  finger 
Into  the  red  charcoal." 

"The  tale  consistently  enough  concludes  that  'great  was  the  power 
of  Patrick  in  awakening  Chuchulinn,  after  being  nine  fifty  years  in  the 
grave.'  " 

— The  Literature  of  the  Celts:  its  History  and  Romance, 
by  Magnus  Maclean,  M.  A.,  D.  Sc.  pp  171,  172. 
London,  Glasgow  and  Dublin,  1902. 


[74] 


NOTE   ON  THE   MUSIC 

BY  WALLACE  A.  SABIN 

THE  PRELUDE  to  "St.  Patrick  at  Tara"  opens  with  a 
long  sustained  note  on  the  double  basses  with  a  sug- 
gestion of  the  St.  Patrick  theme  or  Veni  Creator  played 
by  the  'cellos — later  by  the  brass  and  wood-wind: 


This  theme  is  heard  again  toward  the  close  of  the  Pre- 
lude, scored  for  full  orchestra,  signifying  the  triumph  of 
the  Christian  faith  over  that  of  Nature-worship.  After 
forty  bars,  another  theme  is  heard  on  the  wood-wind, 
accompanied  by  muted  violins,  which  is  intended  to  sug- 
gest the  beauty  and  peace  of  nature: 


At  a  certain  point  this  is  interrupted  by  a  succession  of 
chromatic  chords  ending  in  an  abrupt  stop,  which  is  in- 
tended to  suggest  the  tragic  end  of  the  Chieftain.  This  is 
followed  by  a  few  sustained  chords  on  the  low  notes  of  the 

[75] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

wood-wind,  suggesting  gloom  and  despair  which,  however, 
soon  give  place  to  a  religious  atmosphere  which  gradually 
increases  until  the  Veni  Creator  theme  is  triumphantly 
announced  by  the  full  orchestra  and  gradually  diminish- 
ing to  a  pianissimo  ending. 

Early  in  the  play,  after  an  introduction  of  fourteen  bars, 
the  King  of  Leinster  enters  with  his  retainers  who  sing  in 


unison: 


fcfc=? 


TTT7 


fP¥ 


f 


This  is  followed  by  the  other  kings  and  their  escorts  each 
singing  in  turn  and  finally  uniting  in  singing  "Ireland  a 
Nation  Still." 

The  next  entrance  is  that  of  Patrick  and  his  mission- 
aries who  chant  the  Easter  hymn,  Pange  Lingua: 


At  the  close  of  Scene  I  the  march  is  again  heard  and  is 
taken  up  by  the  chorus  who  sing  as  they  make  their  exit. 

The  Intermezzo  is  intended  to  prepare  the  audience  for 
the  revelry  with  which  Scene  II  opens.  After  an  intro- 
duction of  sixteen  bars,  the  following  theme  is  announced 
on  the  clarinet  accompanied  by  pizzicato  strings: 

[76] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 


J 

H=^- 

i  — 

—  i  — 

\  — 

r  < 

fv 

r    *  i  i 

4- 

"   f 

J  it  1 

—  $  —  i 

_i  —  _  — 

—  !Uu 

A  rollicking  theme — 


brings  on  the  revellers  and  also  serves  to  introduce  a  jig 


Later  on,  at  a  signal  from  Patrick,  the  missionaries 
chant  the  Veni  Creator •,  unaccompanied: 


£ 


-    -HV 


^S 


This  is  followed  by  a  few  bars  of  orchestral  music  built  on 
the  same  theme,  which  is  played  during  the  appearance  of 
the  Apparition  of  Cuchulainn. 

The  finale  is  also  constructed  on  the  above  theme  begin- 
ning very  softly  and  finally  swelling  into  a  triumphant 
burst  of  praise. 

[77] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

During  the  play  four  songs  (two  with  chorus)  are  sung. 
The  following  are  fragments  of  the  themes: 

THE  SONG  OF  CONNAUGHT 


'His  -  -tfevv\   t 

THE  SONG  OF  ULSTER 


£ 


THE  SONG  OF  ERIN 


DRINKING  SONG 
.1..    .    .  ._!_ J.      )      i,i 


[78] 


NOTE   ON  THE   COSTUMES 

BY  PORTER  GARNETT 

IN  DEVISING  costumes  for  a  play  dealing  with  Ireland  in 
the  fifth  century  one  is  confronted  with  a  discouraging 
paucity  of  data.  The  ordinary  books  on  costume  give  only 
certain  generalizations  on  "Celtic"  costume,  and  numerous 
books  on  Irish  archaeology,  at  first  consulted,  were  either 
entirely  silent  on  the  subject  of  dress,  or  yielded  informa- 
tion as  vague  as  it  was  meagre. 

Working  from  analogy  in  Celtic  costume  is  not  wholly 
satisfactory  in  that  the  abundant  evidence  we  possess  of 
design  distinctively  native  in  ornaments  and  implements 
among  the  ancient  Irish  would  seem  to  connote  character- 
istics equally  underived  in  their  dress.  Further  research 
proved  this  to  be  the  fact. 

The  most  important  consideration  in  designing  costumes 
for  the  stage  is  to  suggest  through  them  the  attributes 
of  the  characters  represented  and  to  aid  in  expressing 
visually  their  emotional  content.  Archaeological  accuracy 
is  of  value  only  as  a  working  basis;  if  carried  out  with 
scrupulous  exactitude,  it  leaves  no  room  for  the  exercise  of 
fancy,  in  the  expression  of  which  a  certain  quality  of 
creativeness  may  reside.  In  the  present  instance,  there- 
fore, the  scarcity  of  data  afforded  not  only  an  opportunity 
for  the  exercise  of  fancy,  but  rendered  it  imperative. 

The  distribution  of  color  among  the  retinues  of  the  five 
kings  conforms  with  the  directions  given  in  his  play  by 
Professor  Stephens,  but,  as  he  states  in  his  preface,  it  is 
quite  arbitrary. 

[79] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

After  the  task  had  been  begun  with  these  conditions  in 
view,  /.  e.y  the  scarcity  of  data  and  the  restriction  of  an 
assigned  color-scheme,  two  works  were  found  which  sup- 
plied an  abundance  of  such  information  as  would  insure 
the  necessary  degree  of  historical  accuracy. 

Regarding  the  main  facts,  quotations  from  these 
authorities  follow: 

The  dress  of  the  ancient  Irish  consists  of  the  truls  or  straight  bracca, 
the  long  c ota,  the  cochaly  the  canabhas,  the  barrad  and  the  brog. 

The  truis  or  straight  bracca  was  made  of  weft  with  various  colors 
running  on  it  in  stripes  or  divisions.  It  covered  the  ankles,  legs  and 
thighs. 

The  c ota  was  a  kind  of  shirt  made  of  thin  woolen  stuff  plaided,  or  of 
linen  dyed  yellow. 

The  cochaloT  cocula  was  the  upper  garment,  a  kind  of  long  cloak  with 
a  large  hanging  collar  or  hood  of  different  colors  .  .  .  and  was  fringed 
with  a  border  like  shagged  hair;. and  being  brought  over  the  shoulders 
was  fastened  on  the  breast  by  a  clasp. 

The  canabhas  or  filliad  was  a  large  loose  garment  not  unlike  the 
cochal  and  probably  worn  as  its  substitute. 

The  barrad  was  a  conical  cap  .  .  .  The  cone  of  the  barrad  usually 
hung  behind. 

The  first  innovation  in  the  Irish  dress,  after  the  Milesian  invasion, 
took  place  (if  our  annals  are  to  be  credited)  in  the  reign  of  Tighernmas, 
A.  M.  2815.  This  prince  we  are  told  ordained  a  sumptuary  law  called 
ilbreachta  according  to  which  the  different  classes  of  the  people  were  to 
be  distinguished  by  the  number  of  colors  in  their  garments— thus:  the 
peasantry  and  soldiers  were  to  wear  garments  of  one  color;  military 
officers  and  private  gentlemen,  of  two;  commanders  of  battalions,  of 
three;  beatachs,  buighnibbs,  or  keepers  of  houses  of  hospitality,  of  four; 
the  principal  nobility  and  knights,  of  five;  the  ollahms  or  dignified  bards, 
of  six;  and  the  kings  and  princes  of  the  blood,  seven. 

— An  Historical  Essay  on  the  Dress  of  the  Ancient  and 
Modern  Irish,  by  Joseph  C.  Walker,  Dublin,  1788. 

Both  men  and  women  wore  the  hair  long,  and  commonly  flowing 
down  the  back  and  shoulders. 

[so] 


ST.  PATRICK  AT  TARA 

The  fashion  of  wearing  the  beard  varied.  Sometimes  it  was  consid- 
ered becoming  to  have  it  long  and  forked,  and  gradually  narrowed 
to  two  points  below. 

There  were  various  kinds  of  gold  and  silver  ornaments  for  wearing 
round  the  neck,  of  which  perhaps  the  best  known  was  the  torque. 

We  know  from  the  best  authorities  that  at  the  time  of  the  invasion — 
/.  e.  in  the  twelfth  century — the  Irish  used  no  armour. 

— A  Social  History  of  Ancient  Ireland^  by  P.  W.  Joyce, 
LL.D.,  M.  R.  I.  A.,  London,  Longmans,  Green  & 
Co.,  1903. 


[81] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

THE    NEW    WEAPON 


THE  EIGHTH  GROVE  PLAY 

[PERFORMED  ON  THE  SIXTH  NIGHT  OF  AUGUST,  1910] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

of  the  T^edwoods 


BY 

CHARLES  K.  FIELD 

WITH  A  NOTE  ON  THE  MUSIC 
BY  THE  COMPOSER 

W.  J.  McCOY 


CHARLES  K.  FIELD 
SIRE 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE 

THE  grove  play  of  the  Bohemian  Club  is  the  outgrowth 
of  an  illuminated  spectacle  produced  annually  among 
redwood  trees  in  California.  In  "The  Man  in  the  Forest/' 
at  the  Midsummer  Jinks  of  1902,  this  spectacle  first  be- 
came a  play,  the  text  being  the  work  of  one  author  and  the 
music  the  work  of  one  composer.  Since  then,  the  music- 
drama  has  been  steadily  elaborated.  Yet  it  has  been  the 
aim,  excepting  the  play  of  "Montezuma"  (1903),  to  pro- 
duce a  play  inherently  of  the  forest. 

The  "Cave  Man"  has  its  inspiration  in  the  fact  that 
the  sequoia  groves  of  California,  one  of  which  the  Bohe- 
mian Club  owns,  are  the  only  forests  now  existing  that 
resemble  the  forests  of  the  cave  man's  day.  While  it  has 
not  yet  been  established  that  man  of  the  cave  type  oc- 
cupied this  region  of  the  earth,  migrations  here  bringing 
people  possibly  of  a  much  more  advanced  culture,  it  is 
sufficient  for  the  purposes  of  the  grove  dramatist  to  be 
able  to  present  characters  of  the  more  ancient  type  in  a 
natural  setting  startlingly  close  to  the  original  scenery  of 
the  cave  man's  life. 

No  attempt  has  been  made  to  reproduce  the  exact  con- 
ditions of  speech,  appearance,  or  musical  expression. 
Simple  language,  to  set  forth  such  ideas  and  passions  as 
might  make  a  presentable  play,  has  been  employed  and  has 
been  reinforced  by  interpretative  music  in  the  manner  of 
to-day.  Many  thousands  of  years  of  progress  may  lie,  in 
reality,  between  the  types  exhibited  in  this  drama,  yet 
in  the  physical  aspects  of  the  life  of  these  people,  care  has 
been  taken  to  exclude  such  anachronisms  as  the  use  of  the 

[85] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

bow  and  arrow  and  the  making  of  pictures  on  rock  or  in 
carved  bone — accomplishments  that  post-dated  the  dis- 
covery of  fire  by  tens  of  thousands  of  years.  The  charac- 
ters have  been  costumed  to  suggest  men  of  a  primitive 
type,  yet  far  removed  from  the  creature  that  was  to  evolve 
the  gorilla  of  our  day.  That  creature,  also  a  character  in 
the  drama,  doubtless  resembled  the  cave  man  more  nearly 
than  his  decendant  resembles  us.  His  quest  of  the  woman 
in  the  play  is  warranted  by  the  reported  anxiety  of  modern 
Africans  regarding  their  own  women  and  the  gorilla. 

The  episode  of  the  tar  pool  is  based  upon  the  recently 
reported  discoveries  in  a  similar  deposit,  in  California, 
where  remarkably  frequent  remains  of  the  animals  and 
birds  named  by  Long  Arm  in  his  narrative  have  been 
brought  to  light.  To  Dr.  J.  C.  Merriam,  of  the  University 
of  California,  under  whose  direction  these  discoveries  have 
been  reported,  I  am  indebted  for  a  sympathetic  editing 
of  the  text  of  this  play. 

I  desire  to  record  my  gratitude  to  those  members  of  the 
Bohemian  Club  whose  cooperation,  well  in  accord  with 
the  traditions  which  have  made  possible  the  Club's  admir- 
able productions,  has  carried  my  dream  of  the  cave  man  to 
fulfillment.  Mr.  W.  J.  McCoy,  already  wearing  the  laurels 
of  "The  Hamadryads,"  undertook  to  express  my  play  in 
music  when  the  task  could  be  accomplished  only  by  severe 
sacrifice.  That  he  has  contibuted  to  the  musical  treasures 
of  the  Club  a  work  which,  perhaps,  excels  his  former  com- 
position is,  I  trust,  some  measure  of  reward.  Mr.  Edward 
J.  Duffey,  the  wizard  of  the  illuminated  grove,  has  ren- 
dered service  equally  important  to  a  play  whose  action  is 
written  round  the  phenomenon  of  fire.  Mr.  George  E. 
Lyon,  that  rare  combination  of  artist  and  carpenter,  with 
the  assistance  of  Dr.  Harry  Carlton,  has  performed  the 
feat  of  making  the  hillside  more  beautiful,  adding  stage 
scenery  without  sacrilege.  To  Mr.  Frank  L.  Mathieu, 
veteran  of  many  battles  with  amateur  talent,  I  am 

[86] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

indebted  for  untiring  supervision  of  the  production  of  the 
play  and  for  valuable  suggestions  in  its  arrangement.  Mr. 
Porter  Garnett,  authority  upon  grove  plays  and  himself 
sire  imminent,  has  proved  his  loyalty  by  working  all  night 
upon  the  making  of  this  book  of  the  play.  Mr.  J.  de  P. 
Teller  has  drilled  two  choirs  in  the  difficult  music  of  the 
Epilogue.  Mr.  David  Bispham,  a  new  member  of  the  club 
and  an  artist  of  international  fame,  has  shown  himself  im- 
bued also  with  the  amateur  spirit  which  is  one  of  the 
important  elements  in  the  grove  play's  charm.  To  the 
Board  of  Directors,  and  to  their  immediate  predecessors, 
with  their  respective  jinks  committees,  whose  sympathy 
and  aid  under  unusual  circumstances  have  made  possible 
the  Midsummer  Jinks  of  1910,  and  to  all  the  brothers  in 
Bohemia  who  have  joined  me  in  the  labor  and  pleasure  of 
that  effort,  I  subscribe  myself  in  sincere  acknowledgment. 

CHARLES  K.  FIELD. 


ARGUMENT 

ONCE  upon  a  time,  some  tens  of  thousands  of  years  ago, 
the  greater  part  of  the  northern  hemisphere  was  covered 
with  a  mighty  forest  of  conifers.    Its  trees  rose  hundreds  of 
feet  in  height;  their  huge  trunks,  twenty  and  thirty  feet  through, 
were  shaggy  with  a  reddish  bark;  and  between  them  grew 
smaller  and  gentler  trees,  thick  ferns  and  blossoming  vines. 
To-day,  in  the  sequoia  groves  of  California  stands  all  that  is 
left  of  that  magnificent  woodland. 

On  a  memorable  night,  when  the  moon  searched  the  deep 
shadows  of  Bohemia's  redwoods  for  memories  of  the  past  and 
the  mystery  of  night  magnified  our  trees  to  the  size  of  their 
brethern  in  other  groves,  I  sat  with  W.  J.  McCoy  before  the 
high  jinks  stage.  Fancy  has  ever  been  stimulated  by  fact 
and  we  were  aware  that  we  looked  upon  such  a  scene  as  the 
cave  man  knew.  And  so  in  the  moonlight  we  dreamed  that 
the  forest  was  still  growing  in  the  comparative  youth  of  man- 
kind, that  no  light  other  than  the  fires  of  heaven  had  ever  shone 
in  the  grove,  that  the  man  of  that  day  wooed  his  mate  and 
fought  great  beasts  for  their  raw  flesh  and  made  the  first  fire 
among  those  very  trees. 

THE  prehistoric  forest  was  very  dark  and  as  dangerous 
as  it  was  dark.  Therefore  the  cave  men  went  into 
their  caves  when  daylight  faded  among  the  trees  and  they 
blocked  the  cave  doorways  with  great  boulders  and  they 
slept  soundly  on  leaves  and  rushes  until  the  daylight 
peeped  through  the  chinks  of  the  boulders.  One  morning, 
Broken  Foot,  a  big  man  with  heavy  dark  hair  on  his  body 
and  an  expression  that  was  not  amiable  even  for  a  cave 

[89] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

man's  face,  rolled  back  the  blocking  of  his  cave  and  crept 
cautiously  out.  It  happened  that  a  deer  had  chosen  to 
drink  from  a  pool  by  Broken  Foot's  cave.  A  great  stone 
broke  the  neck  of  the  luckless  deer  and  the  cave  man  break- 
fasted well. 

As  he  sat  there  on  the  rocks,  carving  with  his  flint  knife 
the  raw  body  of  the  deer,  certain  neighbors  joined  him,  one 
by  one.  They  were  Scar  Face,  a  prodigious  glutton  but 
sharp  witted  and  inventive,  Fish  Eyes  and  Short  Legs, 
young  hunters  with  specialties,  and  Wolf  Skin,  the  father 
of  Singing  Bird,  a  much-admired  maiden  just  entering 
womanhood.  Then  ensued  such  talk  as  belonged  to  that 
period — stories  of  hunting,  of  escape  and  also  of  dis- 
coveries. Many  remarkable  things  were  being  put  forth 
in  those  days  by  the  inquiring  spirit  of  men,  shells  to  hold 
water,  a  log  that  would  obey  a  man  with  a  paddle,  even  a 
wolf  had  been  tamed  and  made  a  companion  of  a  hunter. 
So  the  morning  passed  in  interesting  discussion  and  all 
would  have  been  harmonious  in  the  little  group  before 
Broken  Foot's  cave  had  not  Short  Legs  listened  eagerly 
to  Wolf  Skin's  description  of  his  daughter  and  announced 
his  intention  of  mating  with  her.  As  he  rose  to  seek  the 
girl,  Broken  Foot  knocked  him  down  with  a  sudden  blow 
and  bade  him  think  no  more  of  the  cave  maiden.  At  this, 
Short  Legs,  although  no  match  for  the  great  bully,  burst 
out  with  a  torrent  of  abuse,  calling  Broken  Foot  many  un- 
pleasant names,  and  Fish  Eyes,  his  inseparable  friend, 
came  to  his  aid  with  more  unflattering  words,  even  accus- 
ing Broken  Foot  of  murdering  his  brother  to  get  his  cave 
and  his  mate.  Broken  Foot,  making  ready  to  seek  the 
girl,  listened  indifferently  to  this  tirade  until  Short  Legs 
called  him  a  coward. 

Earlier  in  the  day  Wolf  Skin  had  told  of  meeting  a 
stranger  in  the  forest,  a  young  man  who  carried  a  singular 
weapon  made  of  both  wood  and  stone.  This  stranger  had 
inquired  for  the  cave  of  Broken  Foot,  a  man  who  dragged 

[90] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

one  foot  as  he  walked.  Short  Legs  accused  Broken  Foot 
of  running  away  from  this  new  comer.  This  was  too  much. 
Broken  Foot,  already  part  way  up  the  hill  on  his  way  to 
Singing  Bird,  turned  back  toward  the  cave  men  threaten- 
ingly. Just  then  a  young  man  came  along  a  higher  path. 
He  looked  down  on  the  man  who  dragged  one  foot  as  he 
walked.  With  a  terrible  cry  of  rage  he  leaped  down  the 
hill.  Broken  Foot,  with  his  great  strength,  had  been  the 
champion  of  those  woods  for  years.  But  Long  Arm,  the 
stranger,  carried  the  first  stone  axe,  and  under  this  new 
weapon  Broken  Foot  went  down  into  the  dead  leaves. 

Then,  of  course,  the  whole  story  came  out.  The  young 
stranger  proved  to  be  the  son  of  the  man  whom  Broken 
Foot  had  murdered.  The  boy  had  been  with  the  two  men 
at  the  time.  The  scene  of  the  murder  was  a  small  lake  into 
which  tar  continually  oozed,  making  a  sticky  trap  for  all 
sorts  of  wild  animals.  A  similar  place  exists  in  California 
to-day,  where  animals  are  caught,  and  geologists  have  found 
in  the  ground  there  great  quantities  of  bones  of  prehis- 
toric animals,  the  sabre-tooth  tigers  and  the  great  wolves 
of  the  cave  man's  day.  Here  was  enacted  the  tragedy  of 
which  Long  Arm  tells.  The  boy  got  away  and  was  reared 
by  the  Shell  People  on  their  mounds  beside  the  sea.  He 
had  invented  a  new  weapon  and  now  he  had  come  back 
to  kill  Broken  Foot  and  to  get  again  the  cave  of  his  father. 

Long  Arm  was  kindly  welcomed  by  the  cave  men.  They 
had  no  love  for  the  dead  bully  and  they  respected  a  good 
fight.  So  the  boy  was  welcomed  home  again.  Yet  the 
greeting  held  a  note  of  warning  in  it.  Old  One-Eye,  fleeing 
through  the  forest,  told  them  that  the  terrible  man-beast 
was  again  roving  through  the  trees.  The  cave  men  did  not 
know  that  this  creature  was  but  the  ancestor  of  the  gorilla 
of  to-day.  To  them  he  was  a  man  who  seemed  to  be  a  beast. 
They  could  not  understand  him  but  they  knew  that  he  was 
larger  than  any  other  man  and  stronger  than  all  of  them 
together,  and  they  gave  him  a  wide  berth. 

[9'] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Long  Arm  was  left  alone  in  the  cave  he  had  regained. 
He  sat  on  the  rocks,  in  the  pleasant  shade  of  the  trees,  and 
chipped  away  at  the  edge  of  his  flint  axe.  He  was  very  well 
satisfied  with  himself  and  he  sang  a  kind  of  exultant  song 
in  tribute  to  the  weapon  that  had  served  him  so  well.  As 
he  worked  and  sang  the  sparks  flew  from  the  flint,  and,  by 
one  of  those  chances  which  have  made  history  from  the 
dawn  of  time,  some  dry  grass  was  kindled.  No  one  in  the 
world  had  made  fire  before  that  day.  Long  Arm  saw  what 
he  thought  was  some  bright  new  kind  of  serpent.  He 
struck  it  a  fatal  blow  with  his  axe  and  picked  it  up;  it  bit 
him  and  with  a  cry  he  shook  it  from  his  hand.  Chances  go 
in  pairs,  sometimes.  Tne  burning  twig  fell  into  a  little 
pool  and  was  extinguished.  Long  Arm  observed  and 
studied  all  this,  a  very  much  puzzled  but  interested  young 
man.  Then  occurred  one  of  those  moments  that  have 
lifted  men  above  the  brutes.  Long  Arm  struck  his  flints 
together  and  made  fire  again  and  man  has  been  repeating 
and  improving  that  process  ever  since. 

That  was  destined  to  be  a  red-letter  day,  if  we  may  use 
such  a  calendar  term,  in  the  life  of  that  young  cave  man. 
He  had  got  his  cave  again  and  he  had  discovered  some- 
thing that  would  make  it  the  best  home  in  all  the  world,  yet 
it  was  not  complete.  And  just  then  he  heard  Wolf  Skin's 
daughter  singing  among  the  trees.  Long  Arm  dropped 
his  new  toy  and  it  burned  out  on  the  rock.  He  hid  behind 
a  great  tree  and  watched.  Singing  Bird  came,  unsuspect- 
ing, down  the  path.  One  of  the  pools  near  the  cave  was 
quiet  and  the  young  girl  was  not  proof  against  the  allure- 
ment of  this  mirror.  She  had  twined  some  blossoms  in  her 
hair  and  she  was  enjoying  the  reflection  when  Long  Arm 
stole  toward  her.  But  she  saw  his  reflection  too,  in  time 
to  leap  away  from  him.  Then  Long  Arm  wooed  her  in- 
stead of  following  to  take  her  by  force,  for  that  was  not  at 
all  a  certainty,  since  she  might  easily  outrun  him.  So  he 
told  her  of  himself  and  his  stone  axe  and  his  victory  and 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

his  cave,  making  it  all  as  attractive  as  possible  and  at  last 
he  told  her  of  the  fire  and  made  it  before  her  eyes  with  his 
sparkling  flints.  Singing  Bird  was  deeply  impressed  by 
all  these  things  and  by  the  confident  manner  of  Long  Arm, 
and  especially  by  the  bright  new  plaything,  and  she  came 
gradually  nearer  to  see  these  wonders. 

Then  suddenly  the  man-beast  came  upon  the  two,  and 
the  woman  leaped  in  terror  to  the  arms  of  the  man.  The 
man-beast  barred  the  way  to  the  cave.  Then  Long  Arm 
braved  him,  though  it  meant  death,  that  the  girl  might 
flee.  The  man-beast  seized  Long  Arm's  boasted  axe  and 
snapped  it  like  a  twig.  Then  he  grasped  the  man  and  pro- 
ceeded to  crush  him  in  his  hairy  hold.  But  the  girl,  under 
the  spell  of  her  new  love,  had  run  but  a  little  way  and  then, 
in  spite  of  her  terror,  turned  to  look  back.  She  shrieked 
wildly  at  Long  Arm's  peril  and  the  great  beast  threw  the 
man  aside  and  came  after  the  girl.  She  tried  desperately 
to  evade  him  and  to  get  the  the  narrow  door  of  the  cave. 
Meanwhile  Long  Arm  had  been  only  stunned.  Recover- 
ing, he  saw  the  firebrand  burning  where  he  had  dropped 
it  on  the  rocks.  He  seized  it,  remembering  its  bite,  and 
again  attacked  the  man-beast.  Here  was  something  new, 
and  very  terrible.  No  animal,  from  that  day  to  this,  has 
stood  against  fire.  The  man-beast  fled  into  the  forest. 

Then  Long  Arm  came  back  in  triumph.  Wonderful  days 
followed,  with  the  happy  discovery  of  cooked  meat,  and 
the  tragedy  of  a  forest  fire,  but  through  all  their  lives  Long 
Arm  and  Singing  Bird  remembered  this  day  when,  in  the 
joy  of  their  escape  from  death  and  under  the  spell  of  the 
woodland  in  springtime,  they  began  their  life  together  in 
the  cave. 


[93] 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 

BROKEN  FOOT  MR.  HENRY  A.  MELVIN 

SCAR  FACE  MR.  WALDEMAR  YOUNG 

SHORT  LEGS  MR.  SPENCER  GRANT 

FISH  EYES  MR.  ORRIN A.  WILSON 

WOLF  SKIN  MR.  FRANK  P.  DEERING 

LONG  ARM  MR.  DAVID  BISPHAM 

ONE  EYE  MR.  HARRY  A.  RUSSELL 

SINGING  BIRD  MR.  R.  M.  HOTALING 

THE  MAN-BEAST  MR.  AMEDEE  JOULLIN 

THE  VOICE  OF  SINGING  BIRD  MASTER  WYNDHAM  MEDCRAFT 
Cave  men.  Women,  Children 

PLACE:    A  sequoia  forest. 
TIME:    From  dawn  to  midnight,  about  fifty  thousand  years  ago. 

THE  EPILOGUE 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  STAR  MR.  T.  V.  BAKEWELL 

AN  ARCHANGELIC  VOICE  MR.  EDWARD  H.  HAMILTON 

THE  MASTER  (persona  muta)  MR.  FREDERICK  J.  KOSTER 

Spiritual  Voices,  Shepherds,  Farmers, 
Warriors,  Philosophers 


[95] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
Production  directed  by  MR.  FRANK  L.  MATHIEU. 

Setting  and  properties  designed  and  executed  by  MR.  GEORGE  E. 
LYON  and  DR.  HARRY  P.  CARLTON. 

Lighting  by  MR.  EDWARD  J.  DUFFEY. 

•     • 
• 

Musical  Director,  MR.  W.  J.  McCoY. 
Chorus  Master,  MR.  JOHN  DE  P.  TELLER. 


[96] 


THE   CAVE   MAN 

*A  Tlay  of  the  T^edwoods 
ACT  I 

A  forested  hillside  in  the  geological  period  preceding  the 
present — some  tens  of  thousands  of  years  ago.  The  landscape 
is  black  with  night,  but  between  the  tree  tops  are  glimpses  of 
the  stars.  'The  musical  prelude  is  in  keeping  with  the  dark- 
ness; it  suggests  the  chill  of  an  era  when  fire  is  unknown ,  and 
the  terror  that  pervades  the  prehistoric  forest  at  night.  Into 
the  glimpses  of  sky  at  the  top  of  the  hill  comes  the  flush  of 
dawn.  'The  red  fades  into  blue  and  light  comes  through  the 
forest,  progressively  down  the  hillside.  'The  radiance  of  morn- 
ing discloses  a  grove  of  giant  conifers,  rich  in  ferns  and  in 
blossoming  vines;  it  is  spring  in  the  forest.  Rock  outcrops 
form  the  lower  parts  of  the  hillside  and  a  small  stream  splashes 
into  a  succession  of  pools;  at  the  base  of  the  hill  the  rock 
appears  as  a  great  ledge,  the  upper  portion  of  which  over- 
hangs. Small  plants  cling  to  the  uneven  face  of  the  cliff  and 
young  trees  stand  along  its  rim.  Under  the  overhanging  ledge 
there  is  a  narrow  entrance,  closed  with  two  boulders,  that  is 
high  enough  to  admit  a  man  stooping  slightly.  The  ground 
immediately  before  the  cave  is  level,  but  soon  drops  in  a  suc- 
cession of  ledges  to  a  plateau  filled  with  ferns  and  boulders 
through  which  the  stream  flows.  Blossoming  plants  edge  the 
pools  and  the  lower  and  larger  pool  has  tall  reeds,  tules,  and 
ferns  about  it.  The  stream  continues  on  to  a  river  that  runs 
westward  to  the  sea. 

[97] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

\As  the  prelude  concludes ,  the  morning  light  has  struck 
upon  the  entrance  to  the  cave  and  the  boulders 
with  which  it  is  closed  are  moved  cautiously  aside. 
BROKEN  FOOT,  the  man  of  the  cave,  is  aware  of 
day.  His  figure  is  dimly  seen  in  the  entrance. 
He  emerges  and  stands  before  the  cave,  listening. 
The  light  increases.  BROKEN  FOOT  suddenly 
crouches,  gazing  intently  at  the  lower  pool.  The 
tall  rushes  quiver  and  a  stags  head  emerges  from 
them.  'The  stag  drinks .  BROKEN  FOOT  picks  up 
a  stone  and  creeps  forward.  He  hurls  the  stone 
upon  the  stag.  'The  animal,  struck  fairly,  crashes 
back  among  the  rushes  and  the  stone  caroms  into 
the  pool  with  a  great  splash.  BROKEN  FOOT 
utters  a  cry  and  leaps  into  the  rushes.  'They 
quiver  with  a  struggle  from  which  BROKEN  FOOT 
emerges,  dragging  the  limp  body  of  the  stag.  He 
pulls  the  carcass  up  over  the  rocks  to  the  level  be- 
fore the  cave  and  throws  it  down  with  a  grunt  of 
triumph,  <The  prelude  ends.  BROKEN  FOOT 
hunts  for  an  edged  stone  and,  finding  one,  begins 
to  cut  at  the  deer.  He  first  jabs  at  the  throat  and 
sucks  the  warm  blood.  The  red  shows  upon  his 
hands  and  beard.  He  cuts  at  the  body  of  the  stag. 
SCAR  FACE,  rather  fat  for  a  cave  man,  enters  upon 
the  hill.  He  squats  and  observes  BROKEN  FOOT. 
¥he  men  are  brown-skinned,  with  short  rough 
hair  and  beards,  and  wide  noses;  they  are  hairy 
on  chest,  back  and  limbs,  and  are  girded  with 
animal  pelts. 


BROKEN  FOOT 

A-a-a!    The  stone  is  dull,  the  skin  tougher  than  wood. 
If  the  flesh  matches  it,  I  have  made  a  poor  kill. 

[SCAR  FACE  lets  a  few  loose  stones  fall  over  the  cliff. 

[98] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

At  their  clatter  BROKEN  FOOT  springs  up  in 
alarm  and  grasps  the  stag  by  the  antlers. 

SCAR  FACE 

Broken  Foot's  knife  is  of  little  use  to  him. 
BROKEN  FOOT 

And  less  use  to  you.  The  meat  is  mine.  Scar  Face.  Go 
kill  your  own  eating. 

SCAR  FACE 
And  if  I  do  kill  I  have  a  knife  that  will  cut  my  food. 

BROKEN  FOOT 
Give  it  to  me. 

SCAR  FACE 

The  knife  is  mine,  Broken  Foot,  as  the  meat  is  yours. 
Look  you,  let  my  knife  cut  your  meat  for  us  both. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

What  kind  of  knife  is  it — stone  ? 
SCAR  FACE 

Sharper  than  ever  stone  was.  I'll  come  down  there  and 
you  shall  see. 

[He  descends  from  the  cliff  by  a  path  among  the  trees. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

If  it  is  not  keen  you  shall  have  none  of  this  meat. 
SCAR  FACE  (pausing  in  his  descent) 

See !  was  ever  stone  so  sharp  as  the  knife  I  have  ?  This 
has  done  bloody  work  in  its  time,  men's  blood,  too.  Do 
you  know  who  used  it  ? 

BROKEN  FOOT 
I  can  not  see  from  here.    Come  down. 

[99] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

SCAR  FACE 
Your  pledge  that  you  will  not  fight  for  it  ? 

BROKEN  FOOT 

Aye. 

[SCAR  FACE  comes  down  to  BROKEN  FOOT  and  shows 
him  bis  knife. 

The  sabre-tooth! 

SCAR  FACE 

I  found  the  white  bones  bleaching  in  the  sun.  The 
other  tooth  was  missing,  broken  off  close,  perhaps  in  the 
tiger's  last  fight.  With  a  stone  and  much  care  I  got  this 
safely  off  the  skull.  Now  it  works  in  my  hand  as  it  served 
the  beast  once.  See,  how  it  cuts! 

[SCAR  FACE  attacks  the  stag's  carcass  with  eagerness. 
BROKEN  FOOT  watches  moodily,  then  joins  him, 
crouching  over  the  meat,  ^hey  take  pieces  and 
eat. 

SCAR  FACE 
The  meat  is  good. 

BROKEN  FOOT 
Give  me  the  knife. 

SCAR  FACE 

No,  there  will  be  more  meat  to  cut,  I  hope.  But  I  will 
give  you  another  thing. 

BROKEN  FOOT 
What? 

SCAR  FACE 

I  will  tell  you  something.  It  is  a  great  thing  that  I  have 
found.  Often  you  have  waked  in  the  cave,  before  the  light 
creeps  through  the  door  cracks,  and  been  thirsty  ? 

[100] 


THE  CAVE  MAN  !/,  .•;.  ; 

BROKEN  FOOT 

Aye,  well! 

SCAR  FACE 

The  night  was  still  and  you  could  hear  the  water  fall- 
ing outside  in  the  darkness.  And  you  grew  more  thirsty, 
hearing  it  call  to  you  and  mock  you  because  you  could  not 
go  out  to  it  and  drink,  for  it  was  night  and  no  man  may 
stir  from  the  safety  of  the  cave  after  nightfall.  Eh  ? 

BROKEN  FOOT 
You  have  many  words,  Scar  Face,  but  no  news. 

SCAR  FACE 

Once  I  had  none,  like  you.  I,  too,  listened  with  dry 
throat  and  waited  for  the  day.  But  not  now! 

BROKEN  FOOT 

O-ho,  now  you  come  out  into  the  darkness  and  all  the 
forest  is  afraid  of  you,  because  of  your  knife — the  lions 
and  wolves,  even,  go  running,  thinking  you  are  old  Sabre- 
Tooth  himself?    Am  I  a  cub  that  you  give  me  such  words  ? 
[SCAR  FACE  laughs  teasingly  and  BROKEN  FOOT 
rages. 

Here!  I  have  killed  this  meat  for  myself,  yet  I  had 
rather  your  mouth  were  rilled  with  it  than  with  such  talk. 

SCAR  FACE 

Before  I  fill  it  my  talk  shall  pay  you.  Hear  me.  All 
your  life  you  have  seen  the  great  gourd  hanging  upon  the 
forest  vines ;  you  have  known  that  when  it  dries  the  gourd 
is  hollow  but  for  the  seeds  that  rattle  in  it.  And  all  your 
life  you  have  seen  how  the  rain  lies  in  the  hollow  places  in 
the  rocks  until  the  sun  drinks  it.  But  Broken  Foot,  the 
great  fighter  with  sharp  stones,  he  has  never  thought  to 

[101] 


GrRpVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

himself:  "Water  will  stand  in  the  hollow  gourd  if  I  fill  it  at 
the  stream  and  take  it  to  the  cave."  No,  he  is  a  great  man 
among  the  caves,  but  he  lies  awake  thirsty  through  the 
night  while  Scar  Face  drinks  when  he  will! 

BROKEN  FOOT  (pondering) 
Aye,  it  is  true,  I  never  thought  of  that! 

SCAR  FACE 
See  there,  two  hunters  from  the  river. 

BROKEN  FOOT 
Short  Legs  is  one  of  them ;  I  know  him  by  his  walk. 

SCAR  FACE 

The  other  is  he  that  has  eyes  like  a  fish  and  swims  like 
one.    Those  two  hunt  together  always. 

[FiSH  EYES  and  SHORT  LEGS  enter  with  fish  and 
game. 

They  have  hunted  well,  this  morning.    Their  hands  are 
filled  with  something.    Hi-i ! 

[The  two  hunters  pause. 

BROKEN  FOOT 
Why  do  you  call  them  ? 

SCAR  FACE 
Hi,  cave  men,  what  kill  so  early  ? 

FISH  EYES 

The  great  black  fish,  father  of  them  all.    After  many 
days  of  trying  I  have  caught  him. 

SHORT  LEGS 

And  a  white  swan  that  I  struck  fairly  with  a  stone  cast 
from  shore. 

[102] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 
SCAR  FACE 

I  have  the  keenest  knife  of  all  the  forest — a  sabre  tooth. 
It  cuts  easily  through  fish  scale  and  feathers.  Let  us 
share  what  we  have. 

BROKEN  FOOT 
Ho,  have  you  not  filled  your  belly  with  my  meat  ? 

SCAR  FACE 

But  it  was  only  meat.    And  here  is  fish  and  water-fowl 
as  well.    You,  too,  shall  share  them. 
See,  here  is  the  knife  and  meat  I  have  cut  with  it. 

[SCAR  FACE,  with  a  hunk  cut  from  the  deery  comes 
down  to  the  newcomers.  The  three  gather  on  some 
rocks  and  proceed  to  share  the  food.  BROKEN 
FOOT  watches  them,  then  comes  down,  glowering 
with  meat  in  his  hand. 

BROKEN  FOOT 
Why  do  you  hunt  together  always  ? 

SHORT  LEGS 

We  need  each  other.  I  can  cast  a  stone  straighter  than 
the  white  owl  falls  upon  the  willow-grouse  or  the  ripe  nut 
drops  to  the  ground.  I  lie  quiet  by  the  water's  edge  and 
when  the  ducks  come  near  shore,  not  too  near,  for  I  can 
throw  far,  I  cast  the  stone  that  leaves  one  always  floating 
when  the  others  rise  from  the  water  with  splashing  feet. 
But  there  the  bird  floats  and  I  am  on  the  shore,  for  I  am  a 
poor  swimmer. 

FISH  EYES 

The  otter  is  no  better  swimmer  than  I.  The  bottom  of 
the  river  is  as  clear  to  me  as  rocks  through  air.  And  I  can 
stop  breathing — I  can  follow  the  fish  into  their  hiding 
places  under  the  elder  roots.  That  is  how  I  got  this  old 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
fellow  there,  that  Scar  Face  is  leaving  the  backbone  of! 
SCAR  FACE 

I  could  get  Short  Legs'  ducks  for  him  without  swim- 
ming. 

FISH  EYES 

Huh!  You  would  make  the  sound  that  the  duck  makes, 
now  that  it  is  the  mating  season,  and  they  would  swim 
into  your  hands.  But  when  Short  Legs  hits  one  with  a 
stone  it  cares  no  more  for  mating! 

SCAR  FACE 

No.  I  understand  many  things  that  you  do  not,  Web- 
foot!  You  have  never  yet  made  a  mating  noise  of  any 
kind. 

FISH  EYES 

The  noise  you  make  is — 

SCAR  FACE 

Let  us  not  quarrel;  we  have  eaten  too  well.  I  will  tell 
you  something.  Yesterday  I  sat  upon  a  log  that  floated  in 
a  little  bay.  My  weight  loosened  it  from  the  grasses  that 
held  it  and  the  moving  water  carried  me  away  from  the 
bank.  It  was  no  new  thing  for  me  to  float  down  the  river. 
It  is  much  better  than  walking  over  rough  paths.  But  as 
I  floated  slowly  I  could  see  along  the  bank  a  mass  of  ber- 
ries, turning  red  even  now,  though  the  season  is  but  new. 
My  lips  watered  for  them,  but  I  was  floating  past  them. 
Then  I  found  a  strange  thing.  My  leg  had  slipped  into 
the  water  on  the  farther  side  of  the  log.  As  it  did  so,  the 
log  turned  slightly  toward  those  berries,  I  tried  that  leg 
again  and. then  that  arm,  and  the  log  obeyed  me  and  I 
stained  my  mouth  with  the  cool,  sweet  blood  of  those  ber- 
ries. If  you  will  kill  a  duck  for  me,  Short  Legs,  I  will  show 
you  how  I  can  float  out  and  get  it. 

[104] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 
BROKEN  FOOT 

In  the  matter  of  the  gourd  I  believe  you,  Scar  Face,  but 
Short  Legs  will  go  hungry  for  ducks  if  he  trusts  to  your 
swimming  log.  For  my  part,  I  shall  do  as  Left  Hand  did 
with  the  young  timber  wolf.  He  killed  a  she  wolf  once 
and  took  a  she  cub  to  his  cave  and  tied  her  there.  It  was 
a  strange  fancy.  We  have  troubles  enough  outside  our 
caves  without  bringing  them  in.  Yet  the  young  wolf  grew 
gentle  and  seldom  offered  to  bite  him,  though  he  did  not 
trust  her.  Later  he  let  her  go,  when  she  was  large,  and  the 
wolves  came  to  the  cave's  mouth  in  the  mating  season, 
but  she  kept  in  the  forest  near  him  and  he  never  harmed 
her.  More  than  that,  he  gave  her  meat  when  he  had 
plenty.  She  had  young,  and  Left  Hand  again  took  one  to 
his  cave.  Then  she  went  away  taking  the  other  cub.  But 
Left  Hand's  wolf  grew  friendly  from  the  first  and  now  they 
hunt  together  like  men.  Left  Hand  stuns  or  kills  the 
game  and  the  wolf  fetches  it  from  where  it  falls. 

FISH  EYES 

If  it  were  not  Broken  Foot,  the  man  who  fights  so  well 
with  the  stone  dagger,  one  might  say  his  story  is  like  those 
that  One  Eye,  the  gray  haired,  tells  to  boys  before  his 
son's  cave. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

My  story  is  true,  you  water-weed.  And  the  tales  of 
One  Eye  are  true,  at  least  those  stories  of  the  great  beasts 
of  long  ago.  I  myself  have  seen  the  enormous  bones 
washed  out  of  the  hillside  that  winter  when  the  rain  fell 
from  the  sky  like  a  river  down  a  cliff. 

SCAR  FACE 

One  Eye's  tales  are  well  enough  for  old  men  who  are 
through  with  a  man's  life  and  for  boys  who  have  not 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

begun.  One  Eye  lives  in  a  past  that  is  so  much  better  than 
to-day  I  am  sorry  I  was  born  so  late.  Nothing  is  so  good 
to  One  Eye  now  as  it  was  once.  To  me  this  forest  seems 
very  good.  Surely  it  is  much  more  comfortable  than  when 
those  monster  bones  had  flesh  on  them!  But  One  Eye 
says  the  forest  is  changing  sadly;  it  is  not  what  it  was 
when  he  was  young! 

SHORT  LEGS 

I  have  heard  One  Eye  tell  his  stories  and  I  believe  he  did 
those  deeds  in  the  same  way  that  I  have  had  fine  long  legs 
and  run  like  a  deer  and  done  great  hunting.  But  it  was 
only  at  night  in  the  cave  when  I  was  asleep. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

Scar  Face  is  so  wise  and  knows  so  many  things,  he  can 
tell  us  how  it  is  we  do  such  deeds  at  night,  how  we  travel 
into  other  forests  and  kill  tigers  without  leaving  the  safe 
warm  cave. 

SCAR  FACE 

The  deeds  you  speak  of  are  dreams.  All  people  do 
those  things. 

SHORT  LEGS 

Where  are  the  places  we  visit  and  why  are  we  always  in 
the  cave  just  where  we  lay  down  before  we  see  them  ? 

SCAR  FACE 

If  I  told  you,  you  would  not  understand,  for  you  go  to 
the  pool  to  drink  when  you  are  thirsty  and  you  swim  in 
the  cold  water  to  get  a  wounded  duck, — I  am  different 
from  you.  But  I  will  tell  you  this  much.  I  knew  a  man 
who  had  traveled  farther  from  our  cave  country  than  any 
other  we  have  known.  He  told  me  once  that  he  had  come 
into  a  great  wide  land  where  there  were  no  trees,  where 
all  was  sand  such  as  the  river  leaves  when  it  grows  small 

[106] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

under  the  sun.  And  as  he  journeyed  in  this  strange  land 
he  saw  ahead  of  him  a  quiet  lake  fringed  with  trees  and 
rushes  and  with  water-fowl  circling  over  it.  He  went  for- 
ward eagerly,  for  his  throat  was  hot,  but  as  he  hastened 
the  lake  faded  suddenly  and  there  was  nothing  there  but 
sand.  Yet  it  was  daylight  and  he  was  awake  and  run- 
ning. It  is  the  same  with  dreams. 

[WOLF  SKIN  enters  high  on  the  hill.  He  pauses  and 
looks  down  upon  the  group.  He  carries  big 
game  over  his  shoulder.  Around  his  loins  he  has 
the  gray  pelt  of  a  timber  wolf. 

FISH  EYES 

See,  there  is  Wolf  Skin  upon  the  hill.  Ai-i-i,  what  game 
did  you  get  ? 

WOLF  SKIN 

I  have  killed  a  young  boar.  He  will  make  juicy  eating 
in  the  cave,  yet  he  got  blood  from  me  ere  I  killed  him. 

SCAR  FACE 
Rest  here  with  us! 

BROKEN  FOOT 

Aye,  Wolf  Skin,  do  not  take  the  boar  meat  to  your  cave. 
Scar  Face  has  a  sabre  tooth  and  a  belly  like  the  tiger's, 
never  filled.  Share  with  him. 

WOLF  SKIN 

I  share  my  meat  with  no  one  but  my  own.  My  cave 
is  not  like  that  of  Scar  Face.  He  lets  his  mate  hunt  for 
him  and  feed  him  like  a  wide-mouthed  nestling.  Nor  do 
I  hunt  for  my  own  eating  merely,  like  Fish  Eyes  and  Short 
Legs,  who  have  no  mates;  they  have  mated  with  each 
other  for  sake  of  food.  I  have  a  daughter  in  my  cave;  she 
is  fleet  and  strong,  grown  to  a  woman  now,  but  she  shall 
not  kill  her  own  meat  while  Wolf  Skin  has  his  hunting 
strength. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
SCAR  FACE 

In  these  soft  words  of  greeting  you  have  had  none  for 
Broken  Foot,  whose  cave  is  empty. 

WOLF  SKIN 

For  Broken  Foot  I  have  words  more  near.  I  have  news 
for  him. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

Let  me  have  it  now. 

WOLF  SKIN 

Singing  Bird  will  be  kept  waiting,  yet  I  will  stop  to  tell 
you. 

\He  descends. 

SCAR  FACE 

Before  long.  Singing  Bird  will  look  for  her  food  from 
hands  she  will  like  better. 

WOLF  SKIN  (pausing) 

That  time  has  come,  already.  Once  the  girl  would 
shrink  into  the  shadow  when  a  man  stopped  by  our  cave. 
When  I  asked  her  to  bring  food  to  the  stranger  in  token 
of  friendship,  she  would  fetch  it  shyly,  without  looking  in 
the  stranger's  eyes,  and  when  she  had  given  it  to  him  she 
would  draw  back  swiftly  into  the  cave  and  the  song  that 
is  ever  upon  her  lips  would  be  hushed  like  that  of  a  bird 
darkened  by  the  hawk's  shadow.  It  is  not  so  now.  She 
draws  near,  though  she  trembles,  and  her  eyes  are  bright 
and  fixed  upon  the  stranger's  face  and  the  song  goes  on 
under  her  breath,  as  though  it  ran  in  her  blood  like  the 
song  of  the  brook  there.  And  she  goes  far  from  the  cave's 
mouth,  too  distant  for  a  maiden  in  our  dangerous  woods. 
When  I  have  been  hunting  far  from  our  cave  in  flower- 
sprinkled  glades  I  have  heard  her  song  as  she  wandered, 

[108] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

forgetful  of  danger.  It  is  not  good  that  she  should  be  so 
careless  of  her  life.  Yet  what  is  to  be  done  ?  The  woods 
are  alive  with  the  mating  of  birds  and  beasts;  it  is  the  love 
season,  and  my  cave  must  lose  her  as  that  other  cave  lost 
her  mother  the  day  I  took  my  mate. 

SCAR  FOOT 
Is  this  the  news  you  bring  Broken  Foot  ? 

WOLF  SKIN  (coming  down) 

That  news  is  for  the  man  whom  Singing  Bird  will  let 
take  her  from  my  cave.  My  words  for  Broken  Foot  touch 
him  alone.  Listen!  Yesterday,  as  the  sun  sank  toward 
the  hilltop,  I  heard  my  daughter  singing  in  the  woods. 
Suddenly  the  song  ceased  and  I  heard  her  running  through 
the  ferns.  Fearful  that  some  beast  had  braved  the  day- 
light to  follow  her,  waked  by  her  foolish  song,  I  sprang 
after  her.  As  I  turned  through  the  trees,  I  came  on  a 
young  fellow,  unknown  in  these  caves.  In  one  hand  he  bore 
a  weapon,  new  to  me;  it  was  both  wood  and  stone.  He 
faced  me  without  show  of  fight.  "I  frightened  her,"  he 
said.  He  spoke  straightforwardly  and  without  evil.  "I 
frightened  her,"  he  said  again,  "and  gladly  would  I  have 
followed  her  to  see  if  I  might  take  her,  for  I  have  seen  no 
such  maiden  among  the  Shell  People.  But  I  must  finish 
other  hunting  first.  I  would  find  the  cave  by  the  drop- 
ping water  where  Broken  Foot  lives,  a  man  who  drags  one 
foot  as  he  walks.  Point  me  there."  He  would  say  nothing 
more,  but  questioned  me  again,  and  I  asked  no  further  and 
told  him  of  this  place.  It  may  be  my  news  is  old.  Has  he 
been  here?  \ 

BROKEN  FOOT 

None  but  these  mighty  hunters  who  have  stopped  to 
talk  like  women  on  my  rocks.  I  shall  be  glad  of  a  real 

[109] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

man,  if  he  be  one,  though  I  have  no  quarrel  with  the  father 
of  Singing  Bird. 

WOLF  SKIN 

She  may  quarrel  with  me  if  I  keep  the  boar's  meat  from 
her  for  so  long  a  time.  See,  the  great  clouds  gather  across 
the  sun.  There  may  be  water  falling  and  mighty  roaring 
of  the  sky  creatures.  My  cave  is  dry  and  waiting. 

[He  ascends. 

Good  hunting  to  you  all  and  no  more  dangerous  growl 
than  mine! 

\_He  goes  away  through  the  trees. 

SCAR  FACE 

Let  him  growl  as  he  will.  I  would  growl,  too,  if  I  had  to 
do  all  the  hunting  for  my  cave.  Red  Hair  makes  my  cave 
comfortable,  save  when  she  rages.  She  likes  hunting  and 
I  like  eating.  We  get  on  very  well.  My  she  cubs  shall  be 
taught  to  make  themselves  useful  and  worth  mating  with. 
I  want  something  more  than  singing  when  I  am  hungry. 
Yet  Wolf  Skin's  girl  can  be  taught  if  any  of  you  are  think- 
ing of  her. 

FISH  EYES 

Not  I.  I  never  longed  to  be  tied  to  one  cave.  I  like  to 
wander  as  I  will,  without  wife  and  young  ones  to  bring  me 
back  at  evening.  I  like  to  eat  my  kill  somewhere  near 
where  I  find  it,  not  carry  it  home. 

SHORT  LEGS 

I  would  rather  not  wander  at  all.  The  cave  of  Scar 
Face  is  the  kind  for  me.  There  was  a  girl  in  Split  Beard's 
cave  that  was  a  good  hunter.  I  should  have  liked  to  have 
her,  but  Stone  Arm  took  her.  Scar  Face  says  Singing 
Bird  can  be  taught.  That  is  so.  I  will  teach  her  and  we 
shall  have  a  cave  together.  That  will  be  better  than 

[no] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

trying  to  keep  up  with  Fish  Eyes  who  walks  too  fast.    I 
will  go  after  her  now. 

[He  rises  and  BROKEN  FOOT,  springing  up,  fells 
him. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

Teach  dead  ducks  to  swim  ashore!  Singing  Bird  comes 
to  this  cave  and  to  none  other.  There  I  shall  hang  what 
you  have  left  of  my  kill,  and  she  and  I  shall  finish  it  to- 
gather  when  I  have  brought  her  home. 

[BROKEN  FOOT,  returning  up  the  rocks,  picks  up  the 
remainder  of  the  dead  stag  and  goes  into  bis  cave. 
SHORT  LEGS  rises  and  rages  against  him. 

SHORT  LEGS 

Cave  bully!  Cripple!  Robber  of  dead  men's  caves! 
Where  is  your  other  mate,  the  wife  of  your  brother  ?  Why 
does  she  not  work  for  you  now  and  take  your  blows? 
When  Singing  Bird  sees  your  limping  foot  she  will  run 
from  you  laughing. 

[During  this  tirade,  BROKEN  FOOT  has  come  from 
his  cave  and  calmy  rolled  the  boulders  before  it. 
He  places  a  great  stone  dagger  in  his  belt  and 
starts  indifferently  up  the  hill. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

Let  the  maiden  look  upon  your  beautiful  legs  and  she 
will  know  that  she  need  not  run  from  you. 

FISH  EYES 
(advancing  to  the  support  of  his  friend) 

His  legs  have  never  carried  him  into  a  stolen  cave! 
Where  is  Heavy  Hand,  your  brother,  who  once  lived  there  ? 
Where  is  the  boy  who  went  hunting  with  the  two  of  you 
when  you  came  home  alone  ?  Stories  of  tigers!  Tell  them 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

to  Wolf  Skin  when  you  take  his  daughter.    It  may  be  that 
you  hunt  for  the  last  time  today. 

[SCAR  FACE  is  asleep  upon  the  rocks.   Music  is  beard, 

tbe  theme  of  Broken  Foot  changing  to  that  of 

Long  Arm. 

SHORT  LEGS 

No,  Broken  Foot  only  pretends  to  go  wooing.  He  is 
running  away  from  the  stranger  who  seeks  the  cave  of  the 
man  that  drags  one  foot  as  he  walks. 

[BROKEN  FOOT  turns  on  them  angrily.  As  he  does 
so,  LONG  ARM  enters  rapidly  on  the  upper  path 
and  stops  at  the  sight  of  the  men  below  him. 

BROKEN  FOOT 

You  crawling  worm!  I  run  from  no  man.  If  I  meet  the 
stranger  he  shall  step  aside,  or  he  shall  learn  that  no  one 
stands  in  the  way  when  Broken  Foot  seeks  his  mate. 

[During  this,  LONG  ARM  has  stood  listening  intently. 
BROKEN  FOOT,  far  above  the  others,  has  his  back 
turned  to  ward  the  hillside.  BROKEN  FOOT  laughs 
scornfully,  and,  turning  along  the  path,  begins 
the  limping  walk  that  characterizes  him.  LONG 
ARM  gives  a  great  cry  of  recognition  and  rage, 
and  springs  down  the  hill.  BROKEN  FOOT  takes 
a  position  and  squares  himself  for  combat.  ^Their 
battle  follows.  It  is  the  unequal  struggle  of  the 
missile  and  the  knife  against  the  axe.  BROKEN 
FOOT  has  his  weapon  dashed  from  his  hand  by 
the  strange  weapon  of  the  newcomer  and  LONG 
ARM'S  axe  descends  crashing  through  the  skull 
of  his  antagonist.  BROKEN  FOOT  crumples  up 
in  silence.  LONG  ARM,  with  a  yell  of  triumph, 
seizes  his  body,  holds  it  in  air,  and  then  throws 
it  headlong  down  the  hill;  looking  after  ity  he 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

becomes  aware  of  the  witnesses  whom  he  has  for- 
gotten in  his  excitement.  There  is  a  tense  -pause, 
then  LONG  ARM  speaks. 

LONG  ARM 

Hear  me, 

Men  of  the  tree-caves ; 

I  have  killed  Broken  Foot ; 

Hear  why  I  killed  him, 

Hear  me,  and  judge 

Whether  we  fight 

Or  be  friends. 

FISH  EYES 
What  name  was  given  you;  where  is  your  cave? 

[LONG  ARM  descends  a  little. 

LONG  ARM 

I  am  called  Long  Arm, 

Named  from  this  weapon 

Which  I  have  made. 

I  am  come  hither 

From  the  vast  water 

Where  the  sun  dives 

And,  all  night,  swims  under 

Till,  in  the  morning, 

He  comes  up  through  the  hills. 

Yet  in  my  early  days 

I  have  beheld  the  sun 

Sink  into  yonder  hill, 

Yea,  from  this  very  cave — 

Men  of  the  mighty  trees, 

I  am  come  home  again ! 

I  am  the  son  of  him 

Once  they  called  Heavy  Hand; 

Born  in  that  shelter  there, 

[113] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Fed  from  these  teeming  woods, 
Cooled  by  this  little  stream — 
Now  will  you  hear  me, 
Hear  why  I  came  again, 
Came  home  to  kill  ? 
When  I  saw  Broken  Foot 
Limp  from  his  stolen  cave, 
Only  my  comrade, 
My  weapon,  spoke  for  me, 
Swift  words,  without  answer! 
Yet,  unto  you, 
As  unto  brothers 
Gathered  together 
In  the  cave's  quiet, 
Now  would  I  speak, 
Bidding  my  weapon 
Among  you  be  still. 
I  would  be  friends  with  you. 

[He  throws  down  his  stone  axe,  leaving  himself  un- 
armed. 

Say,  will  you  hear  ? 

[They  do  not  pick  up  the  weapon,  but  gesture  to  pro- 
ceed.  LONG  ARM  comes  nearer. 

I  was  a  boy  here 
Under  these  trees! 
No  one  in  all  the  wood 
Had  such  a  cave  as  we; 
Room  to  stand  up  in  it, 
Dry  through  the  times  of  rain, 
Narrow  the  mouth  of  it, 
Choked  with  great  boulders, 
All  of  my  father's  strength 
Needed  to  move  them 
Morning  and  night; 
That  is  the  cave  there, — 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

I  have  come  home! 

Here  we  lived  happily, 

Proud  of  our  cave, 

Proud  of  my  father's  strength, 

Glad  of  the  game  he  killed, 

And  my  mother  was  deft, 

Taking  the  skins  he  brought, 

Scraping  the  blood  side, 

Fastening  the  edges, 

So  she  made  clothes. 

Joyful  my  father  brought 

Beasts  from  the  forest; 

Sure  was  his  aim 

With  the  stones  that  he  threw; 

Mighty  the  skull-crashing 

Blows  he  could  deal  with  them ; 

All  of  the  cave  men 

Knew  and  feared  Heavy  Hand ; 

Greatly  I  loved  him, 

He  was  my  father. 

You  that  remember  him 
Know  how  he  went  away 
And  came  not  again. 
He  that  lies  yonder 
Where  I  have  thrown  him 
For  the  night  beasts  to  clear  away, 
Broken  Foot,  the  false  brother, 
He  might  have  told  the  tale; 
Blood  fills  his  mouth  now, 
Spilled  from  his  cloven  skull; 
The  boy  has  come  home! 
Then  let  me  tell. 
\He  comes  down  to  the  others  and  sits  with  them. 

Season  of  winter  rain, 

[us] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Season  of  summer  sun, 

They  had  gone  over  us, 

Both  for  each  finger 

Here  on  my  hands, 

There,  by  the  pool's  edge, 

One  day  my  father  sat 

Shaping  a  stone 

Into  a  weapon 

Fit  for  his  hand. 

Near,  on  a  sunny  rock, 

Sprawling  I  lay, 

Rapt  in  a  child's  play — 

I  was  a  lizard, 

Flat  in  the  sun, — 

There,  as  my  father  wrought, 

To  him  came  Broken  Foot, 

Brothers  they  were, 

Cave-born  together, 

Sharing  their  mother's  milk, 

Tearing  the  meat 

Their  father  had  killed  for  them 

Ere -they  could  kill; 

So  they  had  grown  up, 

Mated  and  parted; 

Yet  ever  my  father, 

Here  in  the  cave  he  found, 

Welcomed  his  brother, 

Sharing  our  beds  of  leaves, 

Sharing  his  kill; 

Hear  how  he  paid! 

Making  his  weapon, 

Here  by  the  pool's  edge, 

To  him  came  Broken  Foot, 

Hiding  his  evil  thoughts. 

Greatly  he  coveted 

The  warmth  of  our  cave, 

[116] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

Hot  was  his  lust 
For  the  arms  of  my  mother; 
So  with  a  snake's  tongue 
He  came  to  my  father, 
Calling  him  brother, 
Told  of  a  wondrous  place 
Where  there  was  food. 
Far  did  it  lie  from  here, 
Far  in  an  open  land, 
Out  of  the  trees ; 
Where  he  had  learned  of  it 
Never  I  knew, 
But  as  he  told  of  it, 
Wide-eyed  and  breathless 
Marked  I  this  tale. 

musical  accompaniment  to  the  narrative  begins. 

There  was  a  snare  set, — 

Not  by  the  hands  of  men! 

Huge  it  was  spread 

Over  that  open  land; 

Out  of  the  marshy  ground, 

Black  as  a  starless  night, 

Oozed  up  a  sticky  slime 

At  the  edge  of  a  pool. 

As  from  the  tree  trunks 

Under  the  noonday  sun 

The  tree  blood  oozes, 

Sticky  and  warm, 

And  little  flying  things,  lighting, 

Are  caught  there  to  die, 

So  said  Broken  Foot 

Then  to  my  father, 

Birds  and  beasts 

Whose  flesh  is  our  food, 

Coming  to  drink  there 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Are  snared  in  the  tar! 

Rabbits  and  squirrels, 

The  big  wading  heron, 

The  bison  and  camel, 

Even  the  deer. 

Fleeter  than  all, 

Fast  were  they  held  there, 

Rooted  like  water-plants 

Deep  in  the  mire; 

Hearing  their  cries, 

The  coyote  came  creeping, 

Came  the  great  condor 

Swooping  to  feed  on 

The  dead  that  were  rotting  there ; 

Never  they  came  again ! 

Fleet  foot  and  spreading  wings 

Helped  them  no  more. 

Eagerly  listened 

My  father  to  Broken  Foot, 

Telling  these  wonders, 

Naming  this  food  trap 

Filled  for  the  taking; 

Then  he  told  more: 

To  the  tar  pool  the  bleating 

And  whine  of  the  trapped  ones 

Drew  from  a  distance 

The  wolves  and  the  lions, 

Called  from  his  secret  lair 

Him  our  old  enemy, 

The  sabre- tooth  tiger; 

There,  with  their  dripping  fangs, 

Came  the  great  beasts  of  blood, 

Lustful  for  prey; 

Then  as  they  seized  it, 

Snared  there  and  held  for  them, 

[118] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

Sudden  the  sticky  slime 

Closed  its  black  fingers 

Fast  on  those  bloody  paws, — 

Naught  was  their  strength  to  them, 

All  that  the  cave  man  fears 

Struggled  there,  helpless 

In  the  clutch  of  the  tar. 

Listening  to  Broken  Foot 
Tell  of  this  death-trap, 
Up  sprang  my  father, 
Hot  with  the  hunting  lust; 
Into  the  forest 
The  cave  men  set  forth; 
Me  they  forgot, 
Flat  on  my  sunny  rock, 
But  lizard  no  more! 
Cub  of  the  timber  wolf, 
Son  of  my  hunting  sire, 
I  followed  their  feet. 

Hugely  my  father  raged 
When  toward  evening 
I  sought  him  for  safety, 
Far  from  the  cave 
And  the  side  of  my  mother; 
Gladly  had  Broken  Foot 
Killed  me  at  sight  of  me, 
But  for  fear  of  my  father; 
So,  when  the  morning 
Lighted  the  stranger  wood 
Still  we  went  on. 

Days  through  the  forest 
Broken  Foot  led  us ; 
False  was  his  heart; 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

But  his  story  was  true. 

All  of  my  life 

I  shall  remember 

What  we  found  there 

Out  in  the  open  plain; 

Never  have  cave  eyes 

Looked  on  such  stores  of  game, 

Hunter  and  hunted 

Lying  together. 

Blending  their  cries, 

Bleating  and  fighting, 

With  death  and  each  other. 

Few  words  will  tell  the  rest ; 
Brief  was  the  time  of  it, 
Long  have  the  years  been 
That  brought  me  revenge. 

[He  springs  to  his  feet. 

Gladly  my  father 
Leaped  to  the  water's  edge, 
Loudly  he  laughed 
In  the  joy  of  the  hunter 
Beholding  the  quarry  there; 
Far  over  he  leaned — 
Over  that  pool  of  death — 
Trusting  the  arm 
Of  the  brother  who  led  him  there ; 
Trusting  the  heart 
Of  the  man  that  betrayed  him.  .  .  . 
[He  utters  a  wild  cry  which  is  echoed  in  the  music. 

Ah,  I  have  lived  since  then 
Hearing  that  awful  cry, 
Long  drawn  and  anguished ; 
Hearing  that  wail  of  fear 
Rise  above  all  their  cries — 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

Voices  of  dying  beasts, 
Trapped  there  and  terrified; 
Voice  of  a  man  betrayed, 
Calling  his  little  son, 
All  blending  in  agony  — 
Helpless  I  heard 
Over  that  roar  of  death 
The  shrieks  of  my  father 
Till  in  the  crawling  slime 
He  choked  and  .... 


musc  ceases. 

Now  is  that  cry  hushed, 
It  rings  in  my  ears  no  more. 
Grown  to  a  man's  might, 
Here  on  this  hillside, 
Here  by  this  cave's  mouth, 
I  have  heard  Broken  Foot 
Utter  his  death-sob, 
Strangled  with  blood. 
I  am  come  home  again, 
Fain  would  I  rest 
Under  these  longed  for  trees. 
Who  says  me  nay  ? 

[SCAR  FACE  picks  up  the  weapon  lying  where  LONG 
ARM  threw  /'/,  and  hands  it  to  him. 

SCAR  FACE 

Take  your  weapon  again.  Broken  Foot  had  no  man's 
love.  In  all  the  caves  the  talk  ran  that  his  cave  was  stolen 
and  his  mate  likewise. 

LONG  ARM 
And  she  — 

SCAR  FACE 

She  died,  some  years  gone,  men  say  from  cruel  use. 

[121] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
FISH  EYES 

How  did  you  get  away  from  Broken  Foot  after  he  had 
thrust  Heavy  Hand  into  the  pool? 

LONG  ARM 

Swift-footed  with  terror,  I  ran  from  that  place,  I  ran  to 
the  river  and  loosened  a  log  that  was  nuzzling  the  bank. 
The  tide  took  me  away,  though  he  followed  hard  after, 
shrieking  with  anger  and  hurling  stones,  some  of  which 
bruised  me.  Yet  I  clung  to  the  log.  And  so  I  went  down 
with  the  stream  until  I  saw  a  great  lake  whose  water 
heaved  uneasily,  though  there  was  no  wind  at  all,  and 
broke  upon  the  sand  with  a  roar  that  filled  the  air.  There 
was  no  shore  at  the  other  side  of  that  lake.  As  the  log 
bore  me  toward  that  roaring  water,  I  slid  off  and  swam, 
but  the  water  came  after  me  and  caught  me  and  rolled  me 
over  on  the  sand.  The  water  was  not  sweet  like  the  river. 
It  was  harsh  in  my  mouth  and  I  was  sick  at  it.  I  crept 
over  the  sand  out  of  the  water's  reach,  and  again  it  fol- 
lowed me,  but  I  crept  farther  and  at  last  it  ceased  to  chase 
me,  and  went  back  slowly  to  where  it  had  been.  As  I  lay 
there  wondering  at  all  these  things  two  men  found  me. 
They  were  not  like  our  people.  They  live  by  the  bitter 
water,  on  huge  mounds  of  shells  and  bones,  left  there  from 
the  food  of  their  fathers  and  their  fathers'  fathers.  And 
mingled  with  the  bones  and  shells  are  the  bones  of  those 
who  have  lived  and  died  there.  They  are  the  Shell  People, 
and  they  were  very  good  to  me,  and  I  lived  with  them  and 
grew  to  be  a  man.  But  ever  I  longed  for  the  cave  under 
the  mighty  trees,  for  the  shell-mounds  were  bare  and  tree- 
less, and  the  mounds  and  the  bitter  water  were  evil  smell- 
ing, and  I  thought  of  our  ferns  and  vines  and  the  pleasant 
odor  of  the  green  tips  on  the  branches  of  our  great  red 
trees.  And  always  I  thought  of  Broken  Foot  and  the 
hate  I  bore  him.  Therefore,  when  I  became  a  man,  with 

[122] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

strength  like  his,  I  took  leave  of  the  Shell  People  and  fol- 
lowed the  river  into  the  forest,  past  the  deadly  tar  pool 
that  cluched  my  father,  and  on  into  the  trees.  So  I  came 
home! 

SCAR  FACE 

The  cave  is  yours  again.  Yet  Broken  Foot  could  fight 
better  than  any  man  of  the  caves.  What  is  this  new 
weapon  that  has  stopped  his  fighting? 

LONG  ARM 

Always,  as  I  followed  the  river,  I  thought  of  my  meet- 
ing with  Broken  Foot,  of  his  great  arms,  and  of  the  mighty 
blows  he  gave  with  his  knife.  I  knew  my  arms  were 
shorter  than  his  and  no  stronger.  And  so  it  came  to  me 
one  day  to  make  my  arm  longer  with  strong  wood,  and 
to  set  my  sharp  flint  in  the  wood's  hand,  that  I  might 
better  fight  with  Broken  Foot.  I  gave  the  wood  a  hand, 
stronger  than  mine,  by  splitting  the  end  a  little  and  bind- 
ing it  with  thongs.  So  my  weapon  was  made.  I  have 
named  it  the  axe. 

SCAR  FACE 

I  shall  make  one,  too,  but  I  shall  make  it  a  little  better. 
[ONE  EYE  enters,  running,  breathless  and  fainting. 

SHORT  LEGS 
Ai-i,  it  is  One  Eye,  the  aged,  far  from  his  cave ! 

FISH  EYES 
Quick,  tell  us  the  danger. 

ONE  EYE 
The  man-beast! 

\_All  but  LONG  ARM  spring  together  in  defense,  cry- 
ing, "  The  man-beastr    "Near  us?" 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

I  do  not  know.  Listen!  I  am  an  old  man,  with  much 
sorrow.  There  was  a  time  when  I  was  young  and  strong 
as  you,  but  I  have  no  breath  for  that  now.  My  son,  who 
gave  me  shelter  in  his  cave,  has  been  taken  by  a  lion.  I 
was  left  alone,  old  and  feeble,  with  but  half  my  sight,  un- 
able to  get  meat.  I  must  brave  the  forest  and  make  my 
way  to  the  cave  of  my  other  son  or  starve,  for  there  is  no 
fruit  or  nuts  now.  So,  when  the  day  broke  bright,  I 
started.  Once,  as  I  rested,  listening,  I  heard  feet  like  a 
man's  passing  among  the  trees.  I  should  have  aid  to  my 
son!  But  I  did  not  cry  out.  I  waited.  Then  he  came, 
and  I  sickened  with  despair  and  the  knowledge  that  my 
life  was  over.  Even  an  old  man,  whose  days  are  filled 
with  weariness  and  fear,  clings  to  his  life  at  the  end.  It 
was  not  a  man  of  the  caves.  It  was  the  hideous  man- 
beast  that  has  been  gone  so  long  from  our  woods  that  we 
had  ceased  to  dread  him.  He  is  a  man  that  has  no  speech ; 
a  beast  that  has  fingers  like  ours  and  can  throw  stones  as 
we  do.  He  is  a  beast  that  is  hot  for  our  women;  a  man 
that  can  have  no  young.  He  is  neither  man  nor  beast, 
but  he  has  thoughts  like  a  man  and  his  strength  is  the 
strength  of  two  men  in  their  prime.  Always  we  of  the 
cave  have  known  that  to  meet  him  is  death. 

SCAR  FACE 
Yet  you  have  got  away! 

ONE  EYE 

It  is  like  the  things  we  do  in  sleep ;  it  does  not  belong  to 
the  day.  I  lay  flat  on  the  ground,  almost  dead  with  fear. 
It  may  be  he  thought  me  truly  so,  for  he  gazed  at  me,  for 
an  instant,  questioning.  But  no,  he  was  following  some- 
thing, and  all  his  senses  were  keen  for  the  chase  of  that 
prey,  whatever  it  was.  He  had  no  care  for  me,  gray  and 
withered  on  the  ground.  With  little  gleaming  eyes  and 
panting  breath,  with  his  great  teeth  clicking,  he  passed  on 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

and  his  footsteps  ceased  in  the  distance.  When  my  fear 
had  gone  so  that  these  old  legs  would  bear  me,  I  set  forth 
running.  The  day  has  been  good  to  me  again ! 

LONG  ARM 

I  am  Long  Arm.  With  my  stone  axe  I  have  slain 
Broken  Foot,  who  stole  our  cave,  and  the  cave  is  mine 
again.  You  may  rest  with  me  and  the  man-beast  shall 
not  harm  you. 

ONE  EYE 

I  remember  Heavy  Hand,  your  father,  and  Broken 
Foot's  story  of  the  tiger  that  took  you  both.  If  you  are  a 
true  son  of  your  father  your  cave  will  be  good  to  live  in. 
But  no  man  may  stand  against  the  beast  that  walks  like  a 
man;  only  a  well-blocked  cave  is  safe.  I  must  go  to  my 
son  and  warn  him  and  we  will  be  watchful.  There  are 
three  men  here  who  can  take  me  to  his  cave.  Will  you 
help  me? 

FISH  EYES 

We  will  take  you,  One  Eye,  and  on  our  way  we'll  warn 
the  caves  we  pass.  The  clouds  grow  thick  again. 

\^All  go  up  tbe  billsidey  LONG  ARM  rolls  back  the 
boulders  at  the  cave's  moutb. 

SCAR  FACE 

Good  rest  to  you,  Long  Arm,  safe  sleep  at  home  again. 
If  Broken  Foot's  skull  has  turned  the  edge  of  the  axe,  you 
would  best  sharpen  it  against  the  man-beast's  coming. 

ONE  EYE 

Trust  no  edge  of  stone  against  that  evil  strength. 

LONG  ARM 
The  axe,  new  sharpened,  and  the  cave,  new  found,  shall 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

serve  you  all  in  any  hour  of  danger. 

[He  goes  into  the  cave. 
SCAR  FACE 

You  do  not  know  the  wonder  of  that  new  weapon.  I 
shall  make  one,  also,  but  I  shall  make  it  a  great  deal 
better. 

FISH  EYES 
Which  way  lies  your  son's  cave  ? 

ONE  EYE 
Toward  the  new  sunlight. 

['They  disappear  in  the  forest.     LONG  ARM  comes 
from  the  cave  singing  the  Song  of  the  Flint.    Dur- 
ing its  progress  he  seats  himself  on  the  rocks 
above  the  big  pool  and  finally  strikes  with  the 
flinty  sending  up  sparks. 

LONG  ARM  (singing) 

Flint  in  my  hand! 

All  the  wood  waits  for  me ; 

I  am  its  master 

While  there  is  sunlight, 

While  I  can  see. 

Sharpened  and  shaped  for  me, 

Lashed  to  my  oaken  arm, 

Strike  at  my  quarry  now, 

Bite  to  the  heart, 

Hungry  tooth  of  the  flint! 

Strike! 

Flint  on  flint; 

Send  up  the  little  stars 

That  fade  ere  they  fly. 

[126] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

I  shall  bring  home  with  me, 

Home  to  my  cave. 

Beasts  that  have  longed  for  me, 

Followed  me,  sprung  at  me 

Out  of  the  shadow 

Into  the  sun; 

Scarred  with  the  flint's  bite, 

Blood-drip  to  mark  the  path, 

We  shall  come  dragging  them, 

We  shall  come  home  with  them, 

The  black  flint  and  I! 

Strike!  Strike! 

Flint  on  flint, 

Spark  after  spark; 

Wake  from  your  black  depths 

The  lights  that  go  flashing 

Like  the  bright  bugs  that  play 

Over  water  at  evening. 

Men  of  the  neighbor  caves, 
They  shall  behold  us 
Hunting  together, 
Laden  with  spoil; 
They  shall  make  way  for  us; 
Give  us  a  free  road 
Home  to  our  rest ; 
He  that  would  bar  us 
Shall  lie  in  the  leaves! 
And  from  the  cave-mouths, 
Eyes  like  the  young  deer's 
Shall  follow  with  longing 
The  feet  of  the  hunter, 
While  we  come  home 
The  black  flint  and  I! 

[127] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Strike!  Strike!  Strike! 

Flint  on  flint. 

Spark  after  spark, 

Faster  and  faster; 

Out  of  the  dark, 

Out  of  the  heart  of  the  oak 

And  the  flint's  black  belly, 

The  friend  that  shall  fight  for  me, 

Smite  for  me,  bite  for  me, 

My  weapon  is  borne! 

\_After  the  conclusion  of  the  song  he  discovers  a  tongue 
of  flame  rising  from  the  place  where  he  has  been 
working,  ^he  theme  of  Fire  has  entered  in  the 
music.  LONG  ARM  gazes  at  the  flame  with  sur- 
prise',  then  curiosity  and  caution.  ^To  him  it  is 
some  kind  of  bright  serpent.  He  steals  upon  it 
with  his  weapon  and  strikes  it.  Then  he  seizes 
it,  supposing  it  dead;  it  burns  him  like  a  bite, 
and  with  a  cry  he  shakes  it  from  him  and  it  falls 
by  chance  into  the  pool,  with  a  sharp  hiss.  He 
looks  after  it  with  eagerness,  shaking  his  stinging 
hand.  He  examines  the  pool  and  finally  draws 
forth  the  extinguished  brand.  He  gazes  at  it,  lost 
in  thought.  Just  here  there  is  an  interruption  in 
the  music  and  the  theme  of  the  Song  of  the  Flint 
recurs,  illustrating  his  thought.  With  a  cry  of 
understanding,  he  springs  up  the  rocks  and  strikes 
again  flint  upon  flint.  Again  the  sparks  fly  up 
and  the  fire  is  kindled.  Cautiously  LONG  ARM 
lifts  the  end  of  the  brand,  examines  the  flame, 
then  comes  down  the  rocks  in  childish  delight, 
waving  his  new  plaything  and  lighting  other  twigs 
with  it.  As  he  does  this,  the  sound  of  a  cave 
maiden  singing  light  heartedly  is  heard  at  a  dis- 
tance. LONG  ARM  stops  his  play  and  listens. 
As  the  singing  draws  nearer,  the  brand,  forgotten, 

[128] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

falls  from  his  hand  and  burns  out  upon  the 
rock.  During  the  progress  of  the  song,  SINGING 
BIRD  enters  on  the  hill  and  pauses  at  a  rock 
where  the  little  stream  babbles  over.  Here  she  sits, 
dipping  her  hands  in  the  water  where  it  sparkles 
among  the ferns ,  while  her  song  goes  on.  ^Toward 
its  height  she  holds  out  her  arms  to  the  sun  and 
rises  with  the  passion  of  the  song;  at  its  close,  she 
spies  two  doves,  billing  upon  a  branch  above  her 
head.  As  she  gazes  at  these,  in  a  rapture  of  sym- 
pathy,  a  great  yellow  butterfly  sails  by  her,  pur- 
sued by  another.  SINGING  BIRD  darts  after  them, 
but  they  wheel  and  elude  her  and  are  gone.  She 
plays  with  a  blossoming  vine  and  picks  some  of 
the  bloom.  ¥hen  she  looks  down  upon  the  big 
pool  and  discovers  that  its  waters  are  quiet  and 
will  serve  as  a  mirror.  With  a  little  cry  of  delight 
she  comes  down  the  rocks  to  the  pool  and,  gazing 
at  hers  elf,  twines  the  blossoms  in  her  mass  of  hair. 

SINGING  BIRD  (singing) 

Warm  slept  I  in  the  cave's  deep  shadow,  sweet  with  love 

was  my  dream ! 
I  dreamed  that  I  roved, 
Far  following  a  pathway  strange,  beside   an   unknown 

stream — 

There  was  I  loved! 

Although  I  fled  he  caught  me,  his  great  limbs  held  my  feet, 
Strongly  he  held  me  near, 
Ah,  mightily  pressed, 
Yet,  struggling  not,  I  lay  there,  strangely  still  nor  fain  to 

be  fleet; 

Glad  of  his  breast! 
Within  the  cave  I  woke  and  heard  the  stream  murmur 

his  words, 
Whispering  near; 

[129] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

My  bosom  answered,  throbbing  with  my  dream ; 
The  call  of  mating  birds 
Filled  my  ear; 
The  woodland  spoke 
A  message  clear 
When  I  awoke! 
So  came  I  down  the  sunlit  path   that  leads   I   know  not 

where, — 

Dear  sun,  be  my  guide! 

My  blood  with  love  is  warm  as  thou  hast  made  the  quick- 
ening air; 

Spring  flows  full  tide. 
Above  me,  see,  the  tender  doves  are  billing  with  trembling 

wings 

On  every  tree; 
Oh  joy  of  spring,  the  world  is  full  of  happy  mating  things, 

Welcoming  me! 

For  I  shall  find  my  lover  by  some  stream, 
And  shall  not  flee 
From  his  will ; 

And  all  the  aching  sweetness  of  my  dream 
Our  happiness  to  be 
Shall  fulfill; 
Even  apart, 
No  time  shall  still 
His  beating  heart! 
Shine,  shine  on  me,  dear  sun,  and  lead  me,  following  thy 

beams, 

To  where  he  may  wait; 
Oh  joy  of  spring,  oh  love  more  warm  than  sun,  more  dear 

than  dreams, 
Give  me  my  mate! 

[LONG  ARM,  who  has  hidden  at  her  approach,  now 
steals  toward  her.  But  she  catches  his  reflection 
in  the  pool  andy  with  a  shrill  cry,  she  leaps  up 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

the  rocks.     He  does  not  follow,  but  calls  to  her 
tenderly,  and  she  pauses  and  turns  toward  him. 

LONG  ARM 

Ah,  do  not  run  from  me.  Hear  who  I  am.  I  saw  you 
yesterday  and  you  stopped  your  song.  Yet  I  did  not  fol- 
low you,  though  my  heart  beat  fast  at  your  beauty.  For 
though  I  had  never  longed  for  a  woman  till  I  saw  you  in 
the  blossoming  glade,  I  had  a  man's  work  to  do  before  I 
followed  love.  I  talked  with  your  father;  he  knows  I 
came  to  fight  only  one  man  of  all  these  woods.  Him  I 
have  fought  and  killed,  and  I  have  got  again  the  cave  he 
stole  from  my  father.  The  cave  is  warm  and  high,  but  ah, 
it  is  empty  and  I  want  you  for  it! 

\He  moves  toward  her,  but  she  springs  away. 

LONG  ARM 

Do  not  run,  I  shall  follow.  See,  there  is  no  cave  like  this 
in  all  the  wood;  there  is  no  weapon  like  the  stone  axe  I 
have  made.  Food  you  shall  have,  in  plenty,  and  warm 
leaves  in  a  dry  cave  and  no  enemy  shall  come  near  you  for 
none  may  stand  against  this  axe  of  mine.  And  we  shall 
be  warm  and  safe  here  with  sweet  water  falling,  and  you 
shall  sing  all  day  in  the  pleasant  sun.  And  on  these  rocks, 
where  long  ago  I  played,  our  little  brown  babes  shall  laugh 
and  tumble,  and  we  shall  watch  them,  smiling  and  with- 
out fear.  And  look,  we  shall  teach  them  the  wonderful 
thing  I  have  learned  today:  how  to  make  the  little  stars 
fly  out  in  the  daylight,  and  how  to  catch  a  bit  of  the  sun 
to  play  with.  Look,  I  will  show  you  what  I  can  do ! 

\While  she  is  on  the  tiptoe  of  escape  at  every  move  he 
makes,  he  succeeds  in  making  the  fire  once  more, 
as  she  watches  the  process  with  growing  fascina- 
tion. As  the  flame  burns  up  brightly  she  draws 
nearer  to  him  with  open  mouth.  As  the  fire  is 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

being  thus  displayed  to  the  wonder  of  the  cave 
maiden,  the  theme  of  the  Man-Beast  is  heard  in 
the  music,  and  the  MAN-BEAST  comes  creeping 
stealthily  down  from  the  upper  levels.  He  dis- 
appears midway  down  the  hillside,  but  reappears 
immediately  on  the  overhanging  ledge  above  the 
cave  and  stands  there,  grinning  evilly  at  the  pair 
below  him.  Occupied  with  the  fire  they  are  un- 
aware of  their  danger. 


LONG  ARM 

See  how  the  little  stars  fly  up  ?  Soon  there  will  be  a  big 
star  lying  in  the  grass.  I  thought  it  was  a  snake  at  first 
and  that  I  could  kill  it.  It  is  not  a  snake,  though  it  will 
bite  you  if  you  let  it  touch  you.  But  if  it  is  angry  I  can 
stop  it  in  the  water.  See!  Come  closer  and  see! 

[The  MAN-BEAST  loosens  stones  at  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  and  they  clatter  down.  With  a  cry,  the  cave 
maiden  springs  toward  LONG  ARM  for  protec- 
tion. He  puts  his  arm  around  her  and  together 
they  stand  for  an  instant,  transfixed  with  terror. 
The  MAN-BEAST  descends  the  cliff,  barring  es- 
cape to  the  cave.  The  man  and  woman  turn  and  flee 
down  the  rocks,  but  the  man  turns  suddenly  and 
braves  the  creature,  that  the  woman  may  escape. 
He  has  picked  up  his  axe  where  he  dropped  it 
when  he  found  the  fire;  the  brand  he  was  dis- 
playing to  the  woman  lies  among  the  rocks  still 
burning.  The  MAN-BEAST  rushes  upon  LONG 
ARM.  LONG  ARM  brandishes  his  axe  and  the 
MAN-BEAST  seizes  it  and  wrenches  it  from  him 
and  breaks  it  with  his  hands,  as  though  it  were 
a  twig.  Then,  before  LONG  ARM  can  get  away 
from  him,  he  seizes  him  and  proceeds  to  crush 
him  in  his  hideous  arms.  At  this  moment  the 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

woman,  who  paused  in  her  flight  and  looked  back, 
utters  a  cry  of  concern.  The  MAN-BEAST  hurls 
LONG-ARM  to  the  ground  and  starts  lumbering 
after  the  woman.  She  tries  desperately  to  circle 
him  and  get  to  the  cave.  She  evades  him,  but  he 
follows  her  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave.  LONG  ARM, 
who  is  merely  stunned,  recovers,  and  seizes  the  fire- 
brand, remembering  its  bite,  and  attacks  the 
MAN-BEAST  as  he  reaches  the  woman  at  the  cave. 
LONG  ARM  strikes  a  blow  with  the  brand.  The 
MAN-BEAST,  turns  snarling.  LONG  ARM  strikes 
him  in  the  face  and  drives  him  howling  into  the 
woods.  LONG  ARM  returns  in  triumph,  singing 
the  music  of  the  Spring  Song,  in  which  SINGING 
BIRD  joins  from  the  entrance  of  the  cave. 

LONG  ARM  (singing) 

Lo,  I  have  filled  him  with  terror; 

From  the  fire  he  fled  away! 
No  more  my  cave  shall  fear  him, 

I  shall  keep  him  still  at  bay. 
Before  my  cave  the  fire  shall  burn 

Through  all  the  terror-haunted  night, 
And  all  the  wondering  woods  shall  learn 

How  mightily  these  comrades  fight, 
The  fire  and  I ! 

SINGING  BIRD  (singing) 

How  can  it  be  he  has  conquered, 

Alone  and  unaided  by  stone! 
Happy  and  safe  will  his  cave  be, 

Although  he  shall  guard  it  alone. 

LONG  ARM 

Ah,  see  my  cave  is  waiting, 
Safely  guarded  from  harms, 

['33] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Share  it  with  me! 
My  bed  of  leaves  is  lonely, 
Closely  folded  in  my  arms, 
Warm  wilt  thou  be. 

SINGING  BIRD 

Ah,  like  a  leaf  that  the  river 
Tenderly  floats  to  rest 

Upon  the  shore, 
A  tide  of  love  now  bears  me 
Blissfully  to  his  breast, 
To  wander  no  more. 

LONG  ARM 

And  all  night  long  together  we  shall  rest 
And  feel  the  throbbing  of  each  other's  breast, 
And  closely,  softly,  warmly  lie 
In  the  cave's  deep  shelter,  thou  and  I ; 
Come,  share  my  cave,  the  leaves  await. 

SINGING  BIRD 

Take  me,  take  me  for  thy  mate! 
(singing  together) 

Ah,  see,  the  cave  is  waiting,  safely  guarded  from 

harms, 

Warm  will  we  be; 
On  leafy  bed  soft  lying,  closely  held  in  thy  arms, 

Mating  with  thee! 

[At  the  conclusion  of  the  song  they  embrace  and  enter 
the  cave;  the  two  boulders  are  rolled  against  its 
mouthy  and  the  daylight  fades  into  darkness  as 
the  music  of  the  Spring  Song  is  lifted  into  the 
ecstasy  of  primal  joy. 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

INTERMEZZO 

(This  musical  interlude  is  in  the  form  of  a  dance  descrip- 
tive of  the  fitting  of  fire-flies  in  the  gathering  darkness  and 
representing  the  joy  of  the  mated  lovers  in  the  cave.  During 
the  intermezzo  fire-flies  dart  hither  and  thither  above  the  pools. 
They  are  few  at  first  but  the  number  increases  until  the  air  is 
filled  with  tiny  flashes  of  fire.) 


ACT  II 

The  scene  is  same  as  in  Act  I. 

[Out  of  the  intense  darkness  a  small  flame  starts  up 
in  front  of  the  cave,  ^he  fire  grows,  lighting  up 
the  faces  and  figures  of  the  mated  cave  lovers  >  and 
flickers  brightly  on  the  grim  face  of  the  cliff. 
LONG  ARM  and  SINGING  BIRD  have  built  a  fire 
in  front  of  their  cave.  SINGING  BIRD  brings  out 
the  remnant  of  the  deer  and  lays  it  on  the  rock 
by  the  fire.  As  the  fire  burns  brightly ,  voices  are 
heard  on  the  hill. 

SCAR  FACE  (calling  down) 
Long  Arm ! 

LONG  ARM 
Who's  there? 

SCAR  FACE 

Your  friends  who  saw  you  kill  Broken  Foot.    Give  us 
shelter  for  the  night. 

LONG  ARM 

I  have  promised  it  and  you  shall  have  it, — yet  you  are 
not  welcome. 

[SCAR  FACE,  FISH  EYES,  SHORT  LEGS,  and  WOLF 
SKIN  enter  and  descend  part  way.  ^he  woman 
goes  into  the  cave. 

FISH  EYES 

What  shines  so  bright  before  you,  making  false  day  be- 
fore your  cave  ? 


PHOTOGRAPH  BY  GABRIEL  MOULIN 

A    SCENE    FROM    "THE    CAVE    MAN" 
FROM  A    PHOTOGRAPH   TAKEN   IN    DAYTIME    DURING   THE    DRESS    REHEARSAL 


THE  CAVE  MAN 
LONG  ARM 

I  have  found  a  fighting  friend,  better  even  than  the  axe 
I  showed  you.  I  have  called  it  fire.  It  will  not  hurt  you. 
Come  down  and  learn  of  it. 

\fThey  descend. 

WOLF  SKIN 

I  had  a  daughter,  Singing  Bird,  the  girl  you  saw  yester- 
day in  the  open  glade.  When  day  was  fading  she  had  not 
come  back  to  the  cave.  Then  came  these  friends  and  told 
me  of  the  man-beast,  who  is  once  more  in  the  forest  after 
many  years.  Together  we  have  sought  the  girl  and  we 
have  no  hope  now,  for  the  night  has  come  upon  us.  We 
gave  up  our  search  and  found  the  nearest  cave.  All  we 
ask  is  shelter  from  the  perils  of  the  dark ;  we  cannot  hope 
for  news. 

LONG  ARM 

If  this  night  were  like  last  night  and  all  the  nights  that 
have  been  but  shall  never  be  again,  I  might  answer  you  in 
words,  spoken  in  the  dark  cave.  But  the  fire  I  have  found 
gives  light  in  darkness  and  gives  you  answer  as  well. 
Look  there! 

\He  points  to  SINGING  BIRD  at  the  entrance  to  the 
cave. 

WOLF  SKIN 

A-ah !  No  words  are  needed.  I  knew  that  Broken  Foot 
went  but  a  short  way  toward  my  cave  to  take  my  girl  for 
mate;  I  did  not  know  that  Long  Arm  makes  love  and  war 
together. 

\fThe  MAN-BEAST  enters  unseen  on  the  hillside. 

LONG  ARM 

I  have  done  more.  The  man-beast  came  upon  us  as  I 
wooed  my  mate.  With  his  hands  he  broke  my  axe  as 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

though  it  were  a  twig.  Then,  with  a  brand  of  fire  like  this, 
I  drove  him  from  this  place.  The  bite  of  the  fire  is  worse 
than  the  bite  of  stone.  It  is  not  that  only.  The  fire  is  a 
terror  to  the  man-beast  and  we  are  safe  from  him.  See, 
you  shall  learn  to  take  it — so! 

\He  shows  them  how  to  handle  the  brands.   Music — 
the  theme  of  Fire — is  heard. 

FISH  EYES 

Everywhere  in  the  woods  beside  us,  animals  are  stand- 
ing. Their  eyes  shine,  but  they  dare  not  come  nearer. 

WOLF  SKIN 
The  night  is  changed  for  man ! 

SHORT  LEGS 
Scar  Face  is  eating  again ! 

SCAR  FACE 

Aye,  and  such  food  as  Scar  Face  never  ate  before.  This 
fire  of  yours  is  a  friend  indeed.  Broken  Foot  killed  meat 
this  morning  and  I  ate  of  it,  in  ignorance,  I  was  so  proud 
of  what  I  knew!  Broken  Foot  hung  the  meat  in  the  cave. 
Now  your  fire  has  made  it  sweeter  to  the  mouth  than  any 
berry  ripened  in  the  sun.  The  fire  is  greater  than  the  sun. 
The  sun  spoils  the  meat  it  shines  on,  but  the  firelight  has 
made  this  sweeter  than  meat  warm  with  blood.  There 
shall  be  fire  always  in  my  cave.  Taste  of  this  meat,  you 
eaters  of  raw  flesh. 

[All  crowd  about  the  fire  and  taste  of  the  meat. 

SHORT  LEGS 

I  am  not  yet  mated,  but  I  shall  find  somebody  some- 
where and  then  I  shall  ask  Singing  Bird  to  teach  her  to 
make  meat  taste  like  this. 

[  138  ] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 
SCAR  FACE 

The  fire  is  warm  and  pleasant  and  I  have  eaten  well. 
Let  us  sleep  here  with  the  fire  to  guard  us. 

[He  yawns.  All  drop  slowly  to  sleep.  While  they 
have  been  testing  the  brands  and  finally  eating, 
the  MAN~BEAST  has  entered  and  has  stood  watch- 
ing from  the  edge  of  the  firelight.  As  they  yawn 
and  stretch  and  fall  asleep  together  round  the  fire ', 
the  woman  takes  the  remnants  of  the  cooked  meat 
into  the  cave  and  the  MAN-BEAST  creeps  forward. 
He  takes  a  brand  from  the  fire  and  tests  it  as  he 
has  seen  the  men  do.  The  woman  comes  from  the 
cave.  The  MAN-BEAST  seizes  her.  She  screams 
and  awakens  the  men.  The  MAN-BEAST  drags 
her  up  the  hill.  Then  the  men  seize  brands  and 
follow.  The  brands  are  seen  flickering  through 
the  forest.  The  fire  continues  burning  brightly. 
LONG  ARM  enters  on  the  hillside,  bearing  SING- 
ING BIRD  in  his  arms.  He  sings  to  her,  tenderly 
and  sorrowfully,  broken  portions  of  their  mating 
music.  As  they  sit  by  one  of  the  pools,  he  revives 
her  with  water  and  they  sing  together.  While  they 
are  concluding  this  song,  a  red  glow  has  begun  in 
the  forest  where  the  brands  were  seen.  This  glow 
strengthens  rapidly.  Then  enter  WOLF  SKIN, 
SCAR  FACE,  FISH  EYES  and  SHORT  LEGS. 
Flames  appear  on  the  trees  by  the  cave.  The  men 
are  in  great  terror. 

LONG  ARM 

She  lives !  We  were  not  too  late. 

WOLF  SKIN 

We  followed  the  man-beast  into  the  darkness   there. 
The  fire  made  light  for  us  as  we  broke  through  the  forest. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Then  the  man-beast  ran  into  a  thicket,  dead  and  dry  since 
last  summer.  At  once  the  thicket  was  full  of  waving 
brands  and  the  heat  became  too  great.  We  held  our  hands 
before  our  faces,  but  we  could  not  bear  it.  We  came  back- 
ward and  still  the  brands  grew  more  in  number  till  every 
tree  is  holding  one  and  there  is  a  great  roaring  as  though 
many  beasts  rushed  after  us  with  fire. 

FISH  EYES 
See  how  the  fire  drives  the  cave  people  before  it. 

[Crowds  pour  down  the  hill,  men  and  women  and 
little  children,  in  a  turmoil  of  fear. 

WOLF  SKIN 
Your  fire  is  no  friend! 

SHORT  LEGS 
It  is  eating  our  forest,  it  will  kill  us  all! 

SCAR  FACE 

Our  grove  is  doomed!    It  is  you  who  have  done  this  and 
you  shall  die  first  of  all.    Kill  him ! 

\*fbey  menace  LONG  ARM.  SINGING  BIRD  throws 
herself  between  him  and  her  father.  A  peal  of 
thunder  crashes  above  the  roar  of  the  fire. 

LONG  ARM 

Hark,  it  is  the  call  of  the  rain!    Water  kills  fire.    It  is 
the  voice  of  a  great  power  that  befriends  us. 

[There  is  another  crash  of  thunder. 

Oh,  hear  it,  hear  it,  it  is  the  voice  of  God ! 

[The  rain  descends  and  the  fire  dies  out,  hissing.  The 
music  ceases  amid  utter  darkness.  There  is  si- 
lence, save  for  the  heavy  falling  of  rain  upon  the 
rocks. 

[140] 


EPILOGUE 

THE  ASCENT  OF  MAN 
scene  is  the  same  as  in  the  play. 

SPIRITUAL  VOICES  (singing  from  above) 

Deep  is  the  sleep  of  man; 

Clothed  on  with  darkness,  he  sleepeth; 

Night  lieth  heavily  upon  his  eyelids; 

He  hath  forgotten  the  glory  of  the  eternal, 

He  knoweth  only  the  dream  of  time. 

\^A  star  glows  in  the  darkness  at  the  top  of  the  bill, 
and  a  voice  from  it  sings. 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  STAR 

Harken !    I  am  the  voice  that  stirs  forever  in  the  restless 
heart  of  man. 

Within  the  vaulted  center  of  a  shell, 

Far  flung  beyond  the  reaching  of  the  tide, 
Unceasing  echo  of  its  ceaseless  swell, 

The  accents  of  the  ocean  still  abide. 
For  the  shell  has  been  held  in  the  breast  of  the 

sea, 

And  never  the  winds  o'er  the  changing  sands 
Shall  silence  the  innermost  ecstasy 

That  turns  to  the  ocean  and  understands. 

SPIRITUAL  VOICES 
What  shall  awaken  man, 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Breaking  the  dream  of  the  senses  ? 
Deep  is  the  sleep  that  hath  fallen  upon  him ; 
When  shall  he  wake  to  the  glory  of  the  eternal, 
Losing  the  false  shadow  of  time  ? 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  STAR 

Lo,  I  shall  sing  in  his  heart  through  the  ages, 
Song  he  must  hear  through  his  clamorous  dream, 

Echoes  of  me  from  his  priests  and  his  sages, 
Till  at  the  last  I  restore  and  redeem. 


I  shall  sing  and  he  shall  hear, 
Vaguely,  faintly,  far-away; 
In  his  sleep-enchanted  ear 

I  shall  tell  him  of  the  day, 
He  shall  grope  along  the  steep, 
Ever  climbing  in  his  sleep, 
Ever  upward,  following 
The  ideal  that  I  sing. 
And  my  music  shall  finally  drown  the  lie  that  his  slumber 

has  spoken; 

I  shall  fill  his  heart  with  my  song  and  the  bonds  of  his 
dream  shall  be  broken; 
He  shall  climb  through  the  strengthening  dawn, 

While  the  fetters  of  sleep  drop  away, 
Till  the  shadows  of  sense  shall  be  gone 
In  the  glory  of  infinite  day! 

AN  ARCHANGELIC  VOICE  (from  the  sky) 

Man  hath  discovered  fire; 

He  hath  watched  the  works  of  his  hands, 

And  thought  hath  awakened  within  him. 

Behold,  he  shall  climb, 

Up  the  hard  path  of  the  ages, 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

Up  from  the  gloom  of  the  senses, 
Into  the  glory  of  mind! 

[From  below.  Cave  men  now  climb  upward  in  shadow 
i  until  they  are  replaced  by  Shepherds,  climbing 

upward  in  a  dim  light. 

SHEPHERDS  (singing) 

Night  made  the  sky  and  mountains  one; 

Behold,  above  the  mountain  wall 
The  blue  is  dreaming  of  the  sun, 

Expectant,  hushed,  augurial. 

Let  us  rise  up  in  the  dawn, 

Forth  with  our  flocks  to  the  tender  green  spaces ; 
Come,  let  us  up  and  be  gone, 

Wandering  ever  and  seeking  new  places. 
[As  the  Shepherds  reach  a  higher  level  they  are  re- 
placed by  Farmers  who  climb,  in  turn,  upward 
in  a  stronger  light.    Meanwhile  the  entrance  of 
Shepherds  at  their  lower  level  continues. 

FARMERS  (singing) 

Now,  where  the  little  stars  have  gone 

All  night  on  tiptoe  from  the  hills, 
Blossom  the  roses  of  the  dawn ; 

The  arc  of  heaven  with  promise  thrills. 

Come,  let  us  out  to  the  soil, 

Blest  with  the  sun  and  the  rains; 
Bread  is  the  guerdon  of  toil, 

And  the  home  we  have  builded  remain. 
[As  the  Farmers  reach  a  higher  level  they  are  replaced 
by  Warriors,  who,  in  turn^  climb  upward  in  a 
stronger  light.    Meanwhile  the  entrance  of  Farm- 
ers at  their  lower  level  continues. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
WARRIORS  (singing) 

Clear  light  in  the  sky ! 

Day  draweth  nigh ; 

The  world,  with  hilltop  and  plain, 

Appeareth  again. 

The  stars  have  melted  in  morning  air; 
So  shall  the  weaker  nations  flee ; 

Might  gives  right;  it  is  ours  to  share 
The  spoils  of  the  land  and  sea. 

\^A s  the  Warriors  reach  a  higher  level  they  are  replaced 
by  Philosophers  climbing  upward  in  a  stronger 
light.  Meanwhile  the  entrance  of  Warriors  at 
their  lower  level  continues. 

PHILOSOPHERS  (singing) 

The  edge  of  the  world  is  afire ; 

Darkness  has  vanished  away; 
Exultant  awakens  the  choir 

That  heralds  the  coming  of  day. 
Light  has  been  vouchsafed  to  us, 

Clear  the  world  about  us  lies, 
Yet  the  mind  mysterious 

Seeth  further  than  the  eyes; 
Riseth  on  its  unseen  wings 
To  immeasurable  things! 

[  The  Philosophers  have  reached  the  highest  visible  path. 
The  hillside  is  thronged  with  the  processional  of 
the  ages. 

O  growing  radiance  that  streams 

Above  this  life's  horizon  line 
And  casts  upon  our  human  dreams 

Reflection  of  a  light  divine, 


[H4] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 

O  dawn  immortal,  pour  on  us 
Thy  strong  effulgence,  glorious, 
Over  all  night  victorious, 
Sunrise  eternal,  shine! 

\_Afanfare  of  trumpets.  'The  dawn  light  begins  at  the 
top  of  the  bill. 

SPIRITUAL  VOICES 

Man  awaketh  from  the  dream  of  the  senses; 

Time  falleth  from  him  like  a  shadow, 

Glory  clotheth  him  evermore! 

\He  who  spoke  the  Sermon  on  the  Mount  appears  far 
above  the  gathered  multitude.  A  splendor  of  light 
bursts  upon  the  forest  and  a  cloud  of  white  doves 
hovers  above  the  climbing  hosts. 

ALL 
Hosanna!    Behold:    It  is  the  Sun! 

[The  procession  is  led  upward  into  the  light. 


NOTE  ON  THE  MUSIC 

BY  W.  J.  McCoy 

IT  HAS  been  the  effort  of  the  composer,  in  writing  the 
music  of  "The  Cave  Man,"  to  parallel,  as  far  as  advan- 
tageously possible  in  musical  expression,  the  ideas,  occur- 
rences, and  pictures  as  they  occur  in  the  text  and  action. 
The  Prelude  is  the  result  of  an  effort  toward  the  creation 
of  atmosphere  conducive  to  a  full  appreciation  of  the  scenes 
that  follow— a  tone  picture  in  the  life  of  primitive  man. 
The  thematic  material  upon  which  it  is  constructed  consists 
of  two  principal  motives — the  motive  of  Broken  Foot: 


«•  T  F  T—  7  >F       ?  —  p 


p  i-p  — 


P      P— T 

and  the  motive  of  Long  Arm 


p 

in 

•s. 

^  *  j-j  J 

_    • 

tt 

^-4f  ;  

i    it       ! 

cy= 

[147] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

These  two  themes  are  developed  alternately  as  the  night 
gradually  merges  into  day,  and  the  climax  culminates  as 
Broken  Foot,  emerging  from  the  cave,  slays  a  deer  and 
drags  it  up  the  rocks  for  his  morning  feast. 

A  development  of  these  themes  is  also  used  for  the 
struggle  between  Long  Arm  and  Broken  Foot,  resulting 
in  the  slaying  of  the  latter. 

Long  Arm,  fashioning  a  new  weapon  for  defense  against 
the  Man-Beast,  sings  the  Song  of  the  Flint: 


L  *:      f  r  f  f 
4 


r 


The  theme  of  the  flint  is  used  as  a  basis  upon  which  the 
musical  structure  is  built.  This  theme  is  heard  later  to 
illustrate  Long  Arm's  reasoning  about  the  origin  of  fire. 

Following  immediately  upon  this  is  heard  the  motive 
of  Fire: 


This  motive,  which  always  occurs  upon  the  appearance  of 
fire  and  is  used  in  a  much  intensified  form  during  the  burn- 
ing of  the  forest,  now  merges  without  interruption  into 
the  Spring  Song  of  the  Cave  Maiden: 


£ES£ 


5   -Uv  *Lt, 


i 


[148] 


THE  CAVE  MAN 


A. 

^— 

5 

i, 

2  j>     J      i^_ 

H  — 

F^=p 

=;  i~T~ 

-i 

^     —    S>      M 

—  s 

— 

1 

| 

LJ 

The  music  of  this  song — to  be  considered  as  forming 
from  this  point  a  love  motive — is  heard  during  the  ramble 
of  the  cave  maiden  through  the  forest  and  during  the 
wooing  of  the  lovers,  culminating  during  a  concerted 
number  in  their  mating. 

The  motive  of  the  Man-Beast  is  introduced  at  the  en- 
trance of  the  gorilla  and  continues,  treated  contrastingly, 
with  the  motive  of  Fire  during  his  presence  in  the  action: 


This  is  developed  cumulatively  into  the  music  of  the 
combat  between  Long  Arm  and  the  Man-Beast. 

As  night-fall  comes  on  after  the  mating,  the  fireflies  are 
seen  twinkling  rhythmically  in  the  forest  to  the  music  of 
the  Dance  of  the  Fireflies  symbolizing  the  joy  of  the  lovers: 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


In  the  second  part  the  musical  motives  introduced  in 
the  first  part  are  again  heard  treated  variously  with  a  view 
toward  intensifying  the  emotions  suggested  by  the  text 
and  action,  culminating  in  the  forest  fire  and  its  extinguish- 
ment by  the  rain,  thus  ending  the  story  of  the  play. 

The  Epilogue,  which  succeeds  directly  the  play  proper, 
begins  with  the  sound  of  spiritual  voices  heard  from  the 
treetops,  enquiring  of  the  future  of  man: 


J  i«  ^ 


^c 


T 


The  musical  material  of  this  angelic  choral  is  a  modifi- 
cation of  the  twelfth  century  consecutive  fifths  of  Hucbald: 

In  reply,  the  Voice  of  a  Star  is  heard  singing  of  the 
future  progress  of  human  intelligence,  which  is  to 

"  . . .  climb  through  the  strengthening  dawn, 
While  the  fetters  of  sleep  drop  away." 


This  is  followed  by  a  vision,  in  allegorical  form,  illustrat- 
ing the  progress  of  intellect  through  varying  stages  to  its 
height. 

The  music  of  this  section  is  in  march  form : 


THE  CAVE  MAN 


It  begins  in  a  very  subdued  manner  with  the  gradual  addi- 
tion of  shepherd's  pipe  and  trumpets  <jf  warriors — 


Finally  enlisting  the  full  power  of  chorus  and  orchestra, 
it  glorifies  the  heights  already  attained  and  points  far  out 
into  the  work  of  the  future. 


[150 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

THE    GREEN    KNIGHT,  ARCHOLON,  AND    THE    PRINCE 


THE  NINTH  GROVE  PLAY 

[PERFORMED  ON  THE  TWELFTH  NIGHT  OF  AUGUST,  1911] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

"Vision 


BY 

PORTER  GARNETT 

WITH  A  NOTE  ON  THE  MUSIC 
BY  THE  COMPOSER 

EDWARD  G.  STRICKLEN 


PORTER  GARNETT 
SIRE 


I 


AUTHOR'S   PREFACE 

"After  the  practice  the  theory." 

N  THE  General  Introduction  to  this  collected  edition 
of  Bohemian  Club  plays  the  ritualistic  character  of 
these  forest  dramas  is  described.  All  of  these  ritualistic 
elements — the  Care  motive,  the  Bohemia  or  Preserver 
motive,  and  the  Brotherhood  motive — enter  into  the  con- 
struction of  "The  Green  Knight."  I  have  not,  however, 
rendered  the  Brotherhood  motive  as  founded  either  in 
the  Christian  or  the  Socialistic  tenet  of  the  brotherhood  of 
humanity,  but  in  the  brotherhood  of  art,  bound  together — 
not  too  closely,  it  is  true — by  the  pagan  notion  of  the 
worship  of  beauty.  This  pagan  ideal  is  expressed  in  "The 
Green  Knight"  in  terms  of  Christianity.  I  have  sought  at 
the  same  time  to  express  in  the  solitary  figure  of  the  Green 
Knight,  even  as  he  proclaims  the  divine  attributes  of 
Beauty,  the  ultimate  loneliness  of  the  artist. 

In  addressing  myself  to  the  task  of  writing  a  grove  play, 
I  found  myself  under  the  necessity  either  of  selecting  one 
of  the  established  classes l  in  which  to  couch  my  endeavor 
or  of  producing  a  play  that  should  call  for  a  new  classifi- 
cation. It  is  the  latter  course  that  I  have  chosen. 

Taking  the  romantic- idealistic  type  of  grove  play  as  a 
foundation,  I  have  attempted  to  carry  on  in  "The  Green 
Knight"  the  trend  toward  form  implicit  in  "The  Hama- 
dryads" and  "The  Triumph  of  Bohemia";  to  reduce  this 
tendency  to  a  canon  of  stage  art  conditioned  by  the  physi- 
cal character  and  the  "spirit"  of  the  Bohemian  Grove. 

This  attempt  is  due  to  no  trivial  desire  to  do  the  thing 
differently,  but  is  born  of  an  anarchic  conviction  which  is 

1See  Introduction,  Vol.  I,  p.  xviii,  supra. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

the  result  of  some  eight  years'  study  of  the  grove  play  as  a 
problem  in  aesthetics. 

To  contend  that  in  art  the  only  things  worth  doing  are 
the  things  that  have  not  been  done  is,  in  the  opinion  of 
most  persons,  to  utter  a  heresy ;  it  is,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  to 
utter  what  is  almost  a  platitude.  But  in  doing  the  thing 
that  has  not  been  done,  it  is  not  sufficient  that  the  artist 
should  depart  from  precedent — he  must  advance  his  art. 
As  Wagner  says  in  "A  Communication  to  My  Friends," 
the  artist  must  "necessarily  throw  forward  to  the  future 
the  realization  of  his  highest  artistic  wish,  as  to  a  life  en- 
franchised from  the  tyrany  of  both  Monument  and  Mode." 
The  same  idea  was  expressed  by  Gauguin  when  he  re- 
marked to  a  friend,  "In  art  there  are  only  revolutionists 
and  plagiarists." 

The  most  revolutionary  departure  from  the  earler  forms 
of  the  grove  play  effected  in  "The  Green  Knight"  is  the 
elimination  of  singing.  I  have  obtained  thereby  for  the 
grove  play  a  divorce  (alas,  only  an  interlocutory  decree) 
from  its  mesalliance  with  opera,  the  strumpet  of  art. 

It  would  be  a  work  of  supererogation  at  this  time  of  day 
to  state  the  case  against  opera.  Voltaire  called  works  in 
the  genre,  "monstrous  and  unnatural  productions,"  and  the 
majority  of  sestheticians  since  his  time  have  taken  their 
flings  at  its  fallacies.  Wagner,  who  wrote  his  hundreds  of 
pages  to  expose  these  fallacies,  gives  us  the  kernel  of  the 
whole  question  in  a  single  sentence  upon  which  he  bestows 
the  emphasis  of  bold  type.  "The  error,"  he  says,  "in  the 
art-genre  of  Opera  consists  herein:  that  a  means  of  ex- 
pression (Music)  has  been  made  the  end,  while  the  End 
of  expression  (the  Drama)  has  been  made  a  means."  And, 
to  quote  a  contemporary  writer,  Mr.  James  Huneker,  "I 
place  pure  music  above  impure,  /.  £.,  instrumental  above 
mixed,  I  dislike  grand  opera  as  a  miserable  mishmash  of 
styles,  compromises,  and  arrant  ugliness." 

The  omission  of  singing  may  be,  by  some,  considered  a 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

sacrifice,  but  it  is  a  sacrifice  only  of  what  is  termed  "effec- 
tiveness." With  this  and  other  threadbare  means  of  achiev- 
ing "effectiveness"  ready  to  hand,  I  have  preferred  to  put 
them  aside  rather  than  to  avail  myself  of  their  cheap  aid, 
and  to  depend  upon  suggestion  for  the  higher  effectiveness, 
the  less  immediate  but  more  profound  response.  Mr. 
Gordon  Craig  says  in  an  essay  ("The  Artist  of  the  Theatre 
of  the  Future"):  "Once  let  the  meaning  of  this  word 
Beauty  begin  to  be  thoroughly  felt  once  more  in  the  theatre, 
and  we  may  say  that  the  awakening  of  the  theatre  is  near. 
Once  let  the  word  'effective*  be  wiped  off  our  lips,  and  they 
will  be  ready  to  speak  this  word  Beauty." 

It  has  been  my  aim  therefore  to  create  an  art- work  at 
once  imaginative  and  informed  with  beauty — a  drama 
that  shall  invite  not  the  superficial  emotive  response,  but 
a  response  of  the  spirit,  less  easily  to  be  obtained  and  for 
that  reason  more  to  be  desired.  In  other  words,  I  have 
aimed  not  so  much  at  expression  as  at  evocation — not 
so  much  at  statement  (which  is  never  art)  as  at  suggestion 
(in  which  art  has  its  only  existence).  I  am  depending  on 
the  receptive  imaginative  of  the  auditor  and  spectator, 
without  which,  as  Joubert  says,  "la  sensibilite  est  reduit  au 
moment  ou  Von  existe;  les  sensations  sont  plus  vives,  plus 
courtes,  et  n^ont  point  d'harmonie  dans  leur  succession" 

The  chief  factors  of  dramatic  "effectiveness,"  as  it  is 
understood  in  the  debauched  theatre  of  commerce,  are 
"human  interest"  and  "sex  interest,"  operating  through 
sentiment  and  passion  rather  than  through  the  intellect. 
Now  human  interest,  as  an  appeal  to  sentiment  or  as  a  bid 
for  success,  is  an  extra-aesthetic  consideration,  and  extra- 
aesthetic  considerations,  as  I  have  already  said,  have 
(ideally)  no  place  in  the  grove  play.  The  human  motive 
(which  is  and  must  be  the  foundation  of  all  drama)  is  ex- 
pressed in  "The  Green  Knight"  symbolically.  "We  are 
coming  closer  to  nature,  as  we  seem  to  shrink  from  it  with 
something  of  horror,"  says  Mr.  Arthur  Symons  in  "The 

[157] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Symbolist  Movement  in  Literature,"  "and  as  we  brush 
the  accidents  of  daily  life,  in  which  men  and  women  feel 
that  they  are  alone  touching  reality,  we  come  closer  to 
humanity." 

I  have  dispensed  with  the  sex  element  entirely  not  only 
because  it  is  not  essential  to  free  drama,  but  because  it  has 
no  place  in  the  ritual  of  a  man's  club.  Another  reason  for 
this  omission  is  that  in  the  grove  play  female  characters 
must  be  figured  by  men,  and  it  is  better  to  avoid  such  a 
demand  upon  illusion. 

I  do  not  intend  to  make  here  an  exhaustive  analysis  of 
the  form  of  the  "The  Green  Knight,"  but  merely  to  con- 
sider some  of  its  architectonic  elements  in  their  aesthetic 
and  technical  aspects.  I  have  prefaced  these  considera- 
tions with  the  quotation,  "After  the  practice  the  theory" 
(borrowed  from  the  title-page  of  that  most  precious  of 
magazines  devoted  to  the  drama,  The  Mask),  because 
much  that  is  here  set  down  in  terms  of  theory  was  in  the 
planning  and  composition  of  the  play  the  expression  of 
temperamental  inclination.  I  mean  by  this  that  in  pre- 
paring the  scenario  I  did  not  measure  the  classical  element 
(introduced  in  the  adjustments  essential  to  the  factor  of 
form)  with  the  foot  rules  of  Aristotle  or  Lessing,  nor  in 
writing  the  play  did  I  weigh  the  romantic  elements  of 
suggestion  and  atmosphere  in  the  scales  of  Plato,  Rous- 
seau, Novalis,  or  Schlegel.  Whatever  appearance  of  an 
adjustment  between  the  classic  and  the  romantic  elements 
there  may  be  has  been  instinctive  rather  than  deliberate. 

"The  Green  Knight"  bears  the  sub-title,  "A  Vision."  I 
have  attempted  in  it  to  externalize  the  illusion  of  a  dream; 
to  conjure  from  the  hillside  a  drama  of  "the  Other- World 
of  Dreams,"  peopled  with  beings  of  fancy  whose  existence 
is  of  the  present  as  is  the  existence  of  the  unsubstantial 
creatures  that  visit  us  in  sleep.  It  is  drama  of  the  spiritual 
macrocosm  of  which  the  spirit  of  the  spectator  is  the 
microcosm. 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

I  have  endeavored  to  keep  secret  from  the  members  of 
the  Club  the  nature  of  the  play  and  the  identity  of  the 
participants  in  order  to  carry  the  illusion  as  far  as  possible 
toward  that  perfection  in  which  the  individuality  of  the 
actor  is  completely  lost  in  that  of  the  character  he  figures. 

One  can  not  consider  the  question  of  illusion  without 
one's  mind  turning  to  the  Pensees  of  Joubert,  from  which 
I  have  already  quoted.  I  can  not  do  better  here,  however, 
than  to  set  down  an  epitome  of  his  "thoughts"  on  this 
subject  as  given  by  Professor  Babbitt  in  his  delightful 
book,  "The  New  Laokoon":  "Joubert  remarks  .  .  .  that 
spirit  and  matter  come  into  relation  with  one  another  only 
through  the  medium  of  illusion;  and  he  goes  on  to  say 
some  of  the  most  penetrating  things  that  have  been  said 
by  any  writer  about  the  role  of  imaginative  illusion  in 
mediating  between  the  lower  and  the  higher  nature  of 
man.  .  .  .  Joubert,  then,  conceives  it  to  be  the  role  of 
the  imagination,  mediating  as  it  does  between  sense  and 
reason,  to  lend  its  magic  and  glamour  to  the  latter,  to 
throw  as  it  were  a  veil  of  divine  illusion  over  some  essential 
truth." 

In  all  the  grove  plays  there  has  been  a  primary  dis- 
tinctiveness  of  form  imposed  upon  them  by  the  physical 
conditions  of  the  locus  and  by  the  fact  that  they  are  re- 
stricted in  length.  It  is  to  be  observed  also  that  the  best 
examples  conform  to  the  Greek  unities  of  time,  place,  and 
action.  Again,  the  scene  is  necessarily  laid  in  a  forest, 
although  in  one  instance  ("  Montezuma,"  1903)  this  fact 
was  ignored.  Other  characteristics  that  have  obtained  in 
some  of  the  grove  plays,  though  not  in  all,  should,  in  the 
writer's  opinion,  be  regarded  as  principles  of  the  form. 
These  are:  (i)  The  setting  should  have  no  relation  to 
geography.  The  spectator  should  not  be  called  upon  to 
adjust  his  mind  to  regarding  the  action  as  taking  place  in 
this  or  that  geographic  locality,  as  was  the  case  in  "  Monte- 
zuma" when  he  has  asked  to  consider  the  stage  as  the 

[159] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

summit  ot&teocalli  in  Mexico,  and  in  "St.  Patrick  at  Tara" 
in  which  the  action  purported  to  take  place  in  Ireland. 
With  the  opportunity  that  the  writers  of  grove  plays  have 
to  get  away  from  the  artificial  conditions  of  the  play- 
house, it  seems  unwise  for  them  to  demand  an  adjust- 
ment that  is  not  only  psychologically  impossible  but  un- 
necessary. For  this  reason  I  maintain  that  the  scene  of  a 
grove  play  should  be  (as  it  has  been  in  most  of  them) 
simply  "a  forest."  (2)  For  similar  reasons  the  time  should 
be  indeterminate,  not,  for  example,  in  1520  as  in  "Monte- 
zuma"  or  in  432  as  in  "St.  Patrick."  (3)  Since  the  per- 
formance takes  place  in  the  open  air  at  night,  the  action  of 
the  play  should  not  call  for  daylight,  artificially  and  un- 
convincingly  created  by  mechanical  means. 

The  tendency  toward  definiteness  of  form  may  be  said  to 
exist  in  the  fulfillment  of  these  principles,  and  their  actual 
fulfillment  is  found  in  Mr.  Irwin's  "The  Hamadryads" 
and  in  Mr.  Sterling's  "The  Triumph  of  Bohemia."  To 
carry  on  this  trend  toward  form  and  to  fashion  a  play  that 
should  not  only  contain  these  principles,  but  should  bor- 
row none  of  its  elements  of  form  from  other  genres — 
poetic  drama,  music-drama,  opera — has  been  my  object 
in  writing  "The  Green  Knight."  In  other  words,  my  pur- 
pose has  been  to  establish  within  a  limited  field  a  new 
canon  of  the  drama.  How  successful  I  have  been  my 
readers  must  judge  for  themselves. 

The  first  step  in  this  revolutionary  attempt  was,  as  I 
have  stated  above,  to  divorce  the  grove  play  from  opera 
while  retaining  the  factors  of  poetry  and  music  in  a  more 
legitimate  intimacy.  The  most  important  principle  in- 
troduced in  the  play  has  to  do  with  the  interrelation  and 
balance  of  the  three  factors  of  poetry,  music,  and  spec- 
tacle. The  principle  may  be  stated  as  a  formula  thus: 
The  duration  and  content  of  the  successive  and  concurrent 
episodes  of  poetry,  music,  and  spectacle  are  adjusted  to  a 
purely  cestbetic  demand  for  an  alteration  of  interest.  That 

[160] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

is  to  say,  when  one  element  or  a  combination  of  elements 
has  held  the  attention  to  a  point  whereat  a  new  interest  for 
the  eye  or  the  ear  is  aesthetically  desirable,  a  new  interest 
is  supplied.  It  is  a  function  of  criticism  to  determine  at 
what  point  the  introduction  of  a  new  interest  is  aesthetic- 
ally desirable;  it  is  the  artist's  business  to  see  that  the  new 
interest  shall  be  aesthetically  adequate.  To  restate  the 
principle  by  means  of  illustration:  If  the  music  give  way 
to  poetry,  the  passage  during  which  "the  orchestra  is  silent 
must  not  be  prolonged  beyond  the  point  whereat  the  re- 
introduction  of  music  would  be  aesthetically  desirable; 
per  contra,  an  episode  that  is  chiefly  musical  or  one  that  is 
chiefly  spectacular  must  be  relieved  by  another  element 
before  it  is  carried  into  the  quicksands  of  tedium.  It  will 
be  readily  seen  how  the  adjustment  of  the  various  elements 
may  be  made  to  affect  the  movement  as  well  as  the  pat- 
tern of  interest  of  the  play. 

Some  of  my  readers,  credulous  of  the  chimera,  In- 
spiration, have  already  satisfied  themselves  no  doubt  that 
a  work  constructed  by  such  means  must  perforce  show 
the  traces  of  its  mechanical  creation,  but  the  determining 
of  the  episodes  is  a  thing  arrived  at  not  through  intellection 
but  through  aesthetic  judgment.  It  may  be  said  that 
the  arrangement  is  objectified  on  the  basis  of  the  hypo- 
thetical psychoses  of  the  "ideal  spectator";  or  that  it  is 
approximated  by  the  artist  to  what  he  feels,  not  to  what 
he  thinks  are  the  desires  of  the  person  of  taste. 

It  is  by  the  addition  of  the  element  of  music  to  the  ele- 
ments of  poetry  and  spectacle  that  the  grove  play  is 
differentiated  from  the  various  forms  of  the  poetic  drama. 
It  must  be  noted  also  that  the  relation  of  the  music  to  the 
other  elements  is  often  (and  should  always  be)  of  a  sort 
that  makes  the  music  more  than  merely  "incidental." 
In  spite  of  the  fact  that  "The  Green  Knight"  contains  no 
singing,  the  musical  element  is  given  in  this  play  greater 
prominence,  independence,  and  responsibility  than  it  has 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

had  in  other  grove  plays.  It  plays  a  more  important  part 
in  the  structure  of  the  play.  It  is  brought,  in  fact,  to  a 
point  beyond  which  it  would  be  impossible  to  go  without 
forcing  upon  the  music  an  over-emphasis  that,  by  a  de- 
liberate subordination  of  the  literary  factor,  would  be  (as 
in  opera  and  the  so-called  dance  drama)  destructive  of 
the  symmetry  or  balance  which  is  the  aim  of  this  experi- 
ment. 

"The  relation  in  which  music  places  itself  to  poetry," 
says  Ambros,  "is  peculiar  when  it  has  the  mission  of  uni- 
ting itself  to  a  spoken  drama"  Continuing  with  a  con- 
sideration of  certain  works  of  this  kind,  particularly 
Beethoven's  "Egmont"  music,  he  says:  "Compositions  of 
the  kind  address  the  theatre  in  the  language  of  Scipio: 
'Nee  ossa  mea  babebis,  ingrata  patriaj  throw  around  them- 
selves the  beggar's  cloak  of  a  'connecting  declamation/ 
and  withdraw  into  the  concert  hall. 

"  'Why,  ye  poor  fools,  for  such  a  paltry  end, 

Plague  the  coy  muse,  and  court  her  fair  regards?'  " 

"It  is  extremely  hard,"  he  concludes,  "for  the  composer 
to  hit  the  golden  mean  so  as  not  on  the  one  hand  to  let  his 
music  sink  down  to  padding  and  patchwork,  nor,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  claim  obtrusively  too  great  independent 
value  by  the  side  of  the  poetical  work." 

The  real  difficulty  lies  in  the  fact  that  works  of  this  sort 
are  never  the  result  of  a  true  collaboration.  The  musician 
takes  the  finished  work  of  the  poet  and  applies  music  to  it 
as  one  might  apply  color  to  a  statue.  Such  a  method  as 
this  prevents  the  music  from  being  an  integral  part  of  the 
art-work.  Eliminate  the  music  and  the  poetic  text  re- 
tains its  integrity — its  completeness.  It  might  be  argued 
that  a  "lyrical  action,"  written  in  collaboration  by  Maeter- 
linck and  Debussy,  would  be  a  finer  work  of  art  qua  art 
than  the  "Pelleas  et  Melisande"  of  Maeterlinck  plus  De- 
bussy which  Mr.  Lawrence  Oilman  calls  "the  perfect 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

music-drama."  Of  such  a  work  Mr.  George  Lilley  could 
not  say  as  he  does  of  "Pelleas  et  Melisande"  in  a  recent 
article  in  the  Contemporary  Review  [January,  1911]  "a  few 
incidents  have  been  omitted,  sacrificed  of  necessity  to 
considerations  of  duration." 

It  will  hardly  be  denied  that,  ideally,  an  art-work  in- 
volving both  poetry  and  music  should  be  conceived  in 
terms  of  the  two  arts.  It  is  this  method  that  Mr.  Stricklen 
and  the  writer  have  employed  in  "The  Green  Knight." 
The  musical  scheme  in  its  association  with  the  plot  was 
completely  worked  out  before  the  composition  of  the 
music  or  the  writing  of  the  play  was  begun.  The  musical 
and  literary  elements,  together  with  the  mise  en  scene 
(spectacle,  lighting,  stagecraft,  costume,  etc.),  were  given 
form  concurrently  and  each  episode  was  completed  before 
passing  to  the  next.  As  a  result  of  this  method  there  are 
ten  passages  in  which  the  music  is  an  essential  part  of  the 
dramatic  structure.  In  three  of  these  poetry  plays  a  sub- 
ordinate part;  in  one,  a  part  equivalent  to  the  music;  and 
in  six,  the  music  carries  the  discourse  unassisted  by  the 
spoken  word. 

It  is  curious  to  note  in  this  connection  what  Wagner  has 
to  say  in  "Opera  and  Drama"  on  the  subject  of  collabora- 
tion. His  remarks  are  particularly  interesting  because,  in 
the  minds  of  most  persons,  Wagner  stands  committed  to 
the  one-man  method  that  he  himself  employed.  He  says: 

"The  Poet  and  the  Musician  are  very  well  thinkable  as 
two  persons.  In  fact  the  Musician,  in  his  practical  inter- 
mediation between  the  poetic  aim  and  its  final  bodily 
realizement  through  an  actual  scenic  representation,  might 
necessarily  be  conditioned  by  the  Poet  as  a  separate  per- 
son, and,  indeed,  a.  younger  than  himself.  .  .  .  This  younger 
person  through  standing  closer  to  Life's  instinctive  utter- 
ance— especially  (aucb)  in  its  lyric  moments, — might  well 
appear  to  the  more  experienced,  more  reflecting  Poet,  as 
more  fitted  to  realize  his  aim  than  he  himself  is."  Wagner 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

did  not  himself  undertake  collaboration  for  the  reasons 
contained  in  the  following  passage:  "If  we  consider  the 
present  attitude  by  Poet  and  Musician  toward  one  another, 
and  if  we  find  it  ordered  by  the  same  maxims  of  self-re- 
striction and  egoistic  severance,  as  those  which  govern  all 
the  factors  of  our  modern  social  State:  then  we  can  not 
but  feel  that,  in  an  unworthy  public  system  where  every 
man  is  bent  upon  shining  for  himself  alone,  there  none  but 
the  individual  Unit  can  take  into  himself  the  spirit  of  Com- 
munity, and  cherish  it  and  develop  it  according  to  his 
powers."  He  adds  in  a  note,  "No  one  can  be  better  aware 
than  myself,  that  the  realizement  of  this  ["Perfected"] 
Drama  depends  on  conditions  which  do  not  lie  within  the 
will,  nay  not  even  within  the  capability  (Fahigkeif)  of  the 
Unit,  but  only  in  Community,  and  in  a  mutual  coopera- 
tion made  possible  thereby."1 

We  now  come  to  characteristics  of  the  play  which  have 
to  do  with  both  the  static  element  of  form  and  the  dynamic 
element  of  treatment.  These  are  (i)  the  employment  of 
musical  accompaniment  for  spoken  lines  and  (2)  the  va- 
riation of  rhythms. 

To  ignore  the  possibilities  of  the  human  voice  combined 
with  music  or  treated  as  an  instrument  itself  is  to  ignore  a 
field  for  aesthetic  effort  that  has  been  only  partially  explored 
and  one  that  offers  many  allurements  and  opportunities. 
We  have  behind  us  in  this  field  certain  forms  of  the  Greek 
fteAoTTowa,  the  melologues  of  Berlioz,  and  the  recitative  of  the 
Italians  and  of  Wagner.  In  our  own  time  we  have  the 
musical  elocution  of  Debussy's  " Pelleas  et  Melisande" 
the  experiments  in  accompanied  recitation  made  by  Mr. 
William  Butler  Yates  and  Mr.  Arnold  Dolmetsch,  and 
many  works  of  the  type  of  Richard  Strauss's  melodrame 
setting  of  "Enoch  Arden,"  which  Mr.  Arthur  Symons 
describes  as  done  "after  that  hopelessly  wrong  fashion 

1  Richard  Wagner's  Prose  Works,  translated  by  William  Ashton  Ellis,  Vol.  I  (Opera 
and  Drama),  pp.  355-356. 

[164] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

which  Schumann  set  in  his  lovely  music  to  'Manfred/ " 
To  these  may  be  added  the  banalities  of  free  musical 
accompaniment  to  the  spoken  word. 

The  reader  will  find  in  Mr.  Stricklen's  Note  on  the  Music 
some  illustrations  of  the  method  we  have  employed  in 
associating  the  "word-speech"  and  the  "tone-speech"  in 
one  of  the  episodes  of  "The  Green  Knight."  It  will  be 
noted  therein  how  the  method  differs  from  others  in  that 
the  relation  of  the  word-speech  and  tone-speech  does  not 
depend  merely  upon  occasional  fixed  or  arbitrary  points 
of  contact,  but  provides  a  virtually  unbroken  parallel 
between  the  rhythm  pattern  of  the  poetry  and  that  of  the 
accompaniment  in  passages  (measured  and  balanced)  of 
speech  alone,  speech  and  music,  music  alone,  and  silence. 
The  music  has  been  consistently  brought  to  the  words  in 
both  configuration  and  atmosphere.  In  Debussy's  method 
the  voice  part  (according  to  Mr.  Lawrence  Oilman  "an 
electrified  and  heightened  form  of  speech")  though  un- 
melodic  is  still  musical;  that  is  to  say,  musical  intervals 
and  variations  of  pitch  based  on  these  intervals  are  taken 
into  account.  It  calls  for  what  Aristoxenus  termed  the 
"discrete"  as  against  the  "continuous"  movement  of  the 
voice.  In  the  method  employed  in  "The  Green  Knight" 
no  account  is  taken  in  the  voice  part  of  the  restricted 
musical  intervals,  for,  although  much  has  been  done  by 
Helmholz,  Merkel,  and  others  toward  determining  the 
relative  pitch  of  the  voice  in  pronouncing  the  various 
sounds  of  the  vowels  and  in  the  variations  arising  from 
accent  and  emphasis,  it  is  impossible  to  indicate  the  pitch 
of  the  human  voice  except  on  the  basis  of  the  restricted 
intervals  of  the  musical  scale.  Musical  notation  has  been 
employed  in  the  illustrations  to  indicate  the  quantitative 
value  of  syllable  and  pause  producing  the  rhythm  pattern 
of  the  speech  which  is  the  basis  of  the  musical  parallel. 

The  variations  of  rhythm  alluded  to  above  consist  of  an 
assignment  of  different  rhythms  to  different  characters  in 

[165] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

the  play.  A  variation  of  rhythm  is  characteristic  of  the 
Greek  drama  and  occurs  in  plays  of  all  periods,  but  as  far 
as  I  can  ascertain  no  attempt  has  heretofore  been  made  to 
identify  certain  rhythms  with  certain  characters.  The 
various  rhythms  employed  in  "The  Green  Knight"  are 
intended  to  bear  an  atmospheric  relation  to  the  attributes 
of  the  characters,  each  rhythm  constituting  as  it  were, 
a  kind  of  poetic  leitmotif.  The  lines  that  may  be  said  to 
form  the  dramatic  framework  of  the  play  are  in  the  un- 
rhymed  iambic  pentameter  of  ordinary  blank  verse.  In 
this  class  fall  the  lines  of  the  Black  Knight  (except  in  the 
invocation  to  Sathanas  for  which  a  dactylic  rhythm  is 
employed),  the  Prince,  Sathanas,  Archolon,  and  the  King. 
The  Elf-King,  whose  lines  are  lyrical,  speaks  in  rhymed 
trimeter  and  tetrameter.  To  Madolor,  the  malignant  and 
scurrilous  dwarf,  a  rhythmical  prose  is  given.  The  Green 
Knight,  after  the  silence  he  maintains  for  some  time  after 
his  entrance,  finally  speaks  in  trochaic  rhythm  which  is 
brought  into  immediate  contrast  with  the  iambic  measures 
of  the  other  characters  and  is  intended  to  emphasize  his 
divine  aloofness.  In  his  final  speech,  an  apostrophe  to 
Beauty  (which,  by  reason  of  the  relation  its  content 
bears  to  the  play,  should  have  a  salient  character  of  its 
own)  I  have  preserved  the  trochaic  rhythm  of  his  other 
speeches  and  have  sought  to  attain  the  desired  effect  by 
adding  the  dactylic  foot  of  the  hendecasyllabic  verse. 

There  is  much  that  might  be  said  of  a  technical  nature 
regarding  such  elements  of  the  grove  play  as  the  lighting, 
the  arrangement  or  composition  of  the  spectacle  in  its 
relation  to  the  scale  of  the  hillside,  the  functions  of  cos- 
tume, color  psychology,  etc.,  but  such  considerations  are 
of  interest  only  to  the  technician. 

In  a  play  such  as  "The  Green  Knight" — a  play  in  which 
atmosphere,  illusion,  suggestion  are  primary  considerations 
— acting,  as  it  is  commonly  practised  and  commonly  un- 
derstood, would  defeat  the  playwright's  aim.  The  effort 

[166] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

of  the  individual  actor  to  be  in  his  own  part  as  "effective" 
as  possible  could  result  in  nothing  but  the  tearing  asunder 
of  whatever  veil  of  illusion  may  have  been  woven  by 
Poetry  on  the  loom  of  Nature.  It  is  interpretation,  there- 
fore, rather  than  acting  that  will  be  sought  in  the  pro- 
duction. 

As  I  end  these  considerations,  written  at  a  time  when  the 
realization  of  the  work  of  which  they  treat  is  not  far  dis- 
tant, I  may  be  forgiven  if  I  close  with  the  same  words  in 
which,  three  years  ago,  I  concluded  my  book  on  the  grove 
plays  of  the  Bohemian  Club.  In  doing  so  I  hope  that  I 
have  not  failed  to  live  up  to  the  ideals  therein  expressed. 

"At  a  time  when  the  creative  impulses  that  stir  in  this 
far  western  country  with  its  smiling  Italian  skies  and  its 
atmosphere  of  the  youth  of  the  world;  a  land  hospitable  to 
the  seeds  of  art  that,  even  amid  the  weeds  of  provincialism 
and  the  worms  of  bourgeois  bigotry  and  ignorance,  give 
promise  of  blossoms  with  something  of  the  fineness  and 
rarity  of  old-world  flowers — one  can  not  but  speculate 
upon  the  destiny  of  this  interesting  exotic,  the  Bohemian 
Club  grove  play.  Has  it  said  all  that  it  has  to  say  ?  Is  the 
spell  of  "The  Hamadryads,"  the  sustained  charm  of  "The 
Triumph  of  Bohemia"  to  be  reached  again?  Will  the 
balance  between  the  various  factors— the  dramatic,  the 
musical,  and  the  spectacular — be  maintained,  or  will  the 
zeal  of  the  actor,  of  the  musician,  or  of  the  artist  tend,  by 
forcing  an  over-emphasis  upon  one  of  these  factors,  to 
formulate  a  new  type  or  cause  a  reversion  to  an  old  one  ? 
Should  any  of  these  things  occur  the  grove  plays  will  un- 
doubtedly lose  the  distinction  that  they  now  have  and  will 
become  mere  reflections  of  other  forms  of  stage  presenta- 
tion ....  The  greatest  danger  is  that  they  will  degenerate 
into  more  or  less  commonplace  drama  or  opera.  Like 
water  that  has  been  carried  to  a  height  they  will  sink  to 
their  own  level  again  the  moment  the  force  that  has  driven 
them  upward  is  withdrawn.  Having  its  roots  in  the  drama, 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

the  grove  play  has  been  swept,  one  might  say,  by  'the 
supreme  interference  of  beauty/  in  a  series  of  concatenated 
creative  impulses  into  what  is  as  much  entitled  to  the  name 
of  a  new  art  form  as  the  Wagnerian  music-drama.  It  re- 
mains to  be  seen  whether  or  not  it  will  revert  to  the  parent 
stock  and  be  lost  as  a  distinct  genre. 

"Ideally  it  should  be  poetic  not  only  in  treatment  but  in 
conception;  the  musical  element  should  not  be  melodra- 
matic, but  conceived  in  the  same  poetic  spirit;  and  the 
whole  interpreted  discreetly  by  action  and  spectacle. 

"With  these  qualities  the  Bohemian  Club  grove  play 
gives  to  those  who  react  to  its  spirit,  who  appreciate  it  in 
relation  to  its  environment,  and  who  register  its  im- 
plications, an  impression  of  what  can  be  likened  to  nothing 
so  fitly  as  to  a  mysterious  and  unforgettable  dream." 

PORTER  GARNETT. 


[168] 


Be  still.    The  Hanging  Gardens  were  a  dream 

That  over  Persian  roses  flew  to  kiss 

The  curled  lashes  of  Semiramis. 

Troy  never  was,  nor  green  Skamander  stream, 

Provence  and  Troubadour  are  merest  lies. 

The  glorious  hair  of  Venice  was  a  beam 

Made  within  Titian  s  eye.    The  sunset  seem, 

The  world  is  very  old  and  nothing  is. 

Be  still.    Thou  foolish  thing,  thou  canst  not  wake, 

Nor  thy  tears  wedge  thy  soldered  lids  apart, 

But  patter  in  the  darkness  of  thy  heart. 

Thy  brain  is  plagued.    Thou  art  a  frighted  owl. 

Blind  with  the  light  of  life  thou'ldst  not  forsake, 

And  Error  loves  and  nourishes  thy  soul. 

— TRUMBULL  STICKNEY. 


[170] 


CAST   OF  CHARACTERS 


NEOTIOS,  a  wood-god 
THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 
THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 
THE  ELF-KING 
THE  PRINCE 
MADOLOR,  a  dwarf 
ARCHOLON,  a  priest 
SATHANASl 
THE  KING/ 
AN  ELF 
FIRST  KNIGHT 
SECOND  KNIGHT 
THIRD  KNIGHT 
FOURTH  KNIGHT 
AN  ANGEL 


persona  mutes 


MR.  HERBERT  HERON 
MR.  ERNEST  S.  SIMPSON 
MR.  MARSHALL  DARRACH 
MR.  CHARLES  K.  FIELD 
MR.  HAROLD  K.  BAXTER 
MR.  W.  H.  SMITH,  JR. 
MR.  CHARLES  C.  TROWBRIDGE 

MR.  JOHN  HOUSMAN 

MR.  HARRIS  C.  ALLEN 
MR.  JAMES  G.  MELVIN 
MR.  ROBERT  MELVIN 
MR.  GEORGE  PURLENKY 
MR.  THEODORE  G.  ELLIOTT 
MR.  HARRY  P.  CARLTON 


Elves,  Goblins,  Moonbeams,  Captives 

PLACE  :    A  forest  in  the  Other-World  of  Dreams. 
TIME:    The  present,  a  midsummer  night. 


Production  directed  and  costumes  and  properties  designed  by  the 
author. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
Properties  executed  by  MR.  HARRY  S.  FONDA. 

Dances  devised  and  directed  by  MR.  GEORGE  B.  DE  LONG,  MR. 
HARRIS  C.  ALLEN,  and  MR.  EDWARD  E.  JONES. 

Lighting  by  MR.  EDWARD  J.  DUFFEY. 

•  • 

Musical  Director,  MR.  EDWARD  G.  STRICKLEN. 


THE  GREEN   KNIGHT 

Vision 


It  is  just  before  moonrise.  The  place  is  at  the  foot  of  a 
wooded  hillside  in  a  forest  of  gigantic  trees.  In  the  foreground 
there  is  an  open  space  or  glade  around  which  the  rough, 
straight  shafts  of  the  trees  rise  to  a  great  height.  Their 
branches,  bearing  heavy  foliage  ',  extend  to  a  height  as  great 
again  and  are  lost  to  view  in  the  blackness  of  the  night  sky. 
The  nearest  trees  frame  the  glade  and  hillside.  The  latter  is 
shrouded  in  impenetrable  darkness.  As  the  moon  rises  it 
may  be  seen  that  the  slope  at  the  back  of  the  glade  is  an  open 
space  more  or  less  irregularly  inclosed  by  trees.  Beyond,  a 
dense  growth  shuts  off  from  view  the  upper  part  of  the  hill. 
Below  this  point  the  terraces  of  the  hillside  are  covered  with 
ferns  and  vines,  through  which  a  winding  path,  wholly  con- 
cealed by  the  luxuriant  foliage,  crosses  and  recrosses  the 
hillside  at  different  levels.  The  path  leaves  the  glade  at  the 
back  and  on  the  left,  from  which  point  it  ranges  upward  and 
into  the  wood.  This  wild  spot  is  in  the  innermost  depths  of 
a  great  forest  in  the  Other-World  of  Dreams.  From  a  tree, 
near  the  place  where  the  path  enters,  a  dull  brazen  shield  is 
suspended. 

\The  sound  of  a  harp  is  faintly  heard  from  the  dark- 
ness. As  it  continues  a  dim  light  appears  be- 
tween two  great  trees  on  the  farther  side  of  the 
glade.  The  light  gradually  grows  more  intense 
until  it  becomes  a  golden  glow.  From  the  thicket 
between  the  two  trees  a  naked  youth,  NEOTIOS, 

[173] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

steps  forth.  On  his  head  he  wears  a  wreath  of 
vine  leaves,  and  in  his  hand  he  carries  a  rustic 
cithara  on  which,  for  a  moment,  he  is  seen  to 
play  a  succession  of  rippling  chords.  The  glow 
fades  away,  but  a  mysterious  light  illumines  the 
figure  of  the  youth.  He  gazes  about  wonderingly 
and  then  walks  slowly  forward  until  he  reaches 
the  middle  of  the  glade.  Wonderingly  he  speaks. 

NEOTIOS 

Temple  of  Peace !  within  thy  noble  walls 

In  humbleness  I  stand  who  am  a  god.  .  .  . 

Here  have  I  come  from  out  the  secret  wood — 

Neotios,  the  son  of  Pan.    Behold, 

O  mortals  favored  by  the  sight  of  one 

No  mortal  eye  has  ever  seen  before — 

Behold  a  humble  god  and  be  not  proud ! 

Abase  yourselves  before  these  silent  trees, 

Wrapped  in  the  solemn  mantle  of  the  night; 

For  tho'  ye  all  be  lovers  of  the  woods, 

And  for  this  reason  I  am  sent  to  you, 

Bearing  the  message  of  my  father,  yet, 

Love  not  as  masters  but  as  servitors; 

Think  not  yourselves  too  great,  O  men,  for  here, 

Amid  these  giant  monuments  of  eld, 

Ye  are  but  puny  things  that  live  and  die 

Like  traceless  moments  in  eternity ! 

Be  lovers,  then,  but  lovers  humble.    Yield 

All  reverence  to  your  leafy  masters.    Bow 

Before  them,  worship  them,  and  know  content. 

Thus  have  all  wise  men  worshiped  forest  fanes 

Since  forests  granted  grateful  shade  to  man, 

And  wood-gods  hid  where  netted  shadows  fell, 

Or  danced  and  wantoned  with  the  shining  nymphs.  .  .  . 

And  now,  ye  mortals,  ye  that  give  your  hearts 

To  labor  and  to  strife  and  earthly  hopes, 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

And,  giving,  suffer  'neath  the  crush  of  Care, — 

Because  ye  have  not  bartered  all  your  souls, 

But  saved  for  him  a  moiety  of  love, 

Pan  bids  me  give  you  greeting  in  his  name.  .  .  . 

Welcome,  mortals,  to  this  charmed  grove ! 

Welcome  to  this  temple  old  and  dim ! 

Welcome  to  this  dwelling-place  of  peace ! 

Forget  your  toil,  remember  not  your  strife, 

And  banish  from  ye  every  thought  of  care ! 

So  may  ye,  like  to  little  children  who 

In  innocence  lie  down  to  rest,  be  lulled 

To  an  enchanted  sleep,  wherein  the  night 

Shall  fabric  visions  for  your  souls'  delight.  .  .  . 

Dream,  mortal  men !    Dream ! .  . .  Dream ! .  .  .  Dream ! . . . 

Dream.  .  .  This  hour 

Is  granted  unto  you  by  gracious  gods.  .  .  . 
Dream,  mortal  men,  while  breezes  thro'  the  boughs 
Waft  strains  of  gentlest  music  to  your  ears !  .  .  . 
Hark !  litanies  of  trembling  moonlit  leaves 
Invite  my  lyre.  .  .  . 

[He  strikes  bis  citbara  and,  continuing  to  play  rip- 
pling chords,  speaks  once  more. 

The  echoes  answer  low.  .  .  . 

Dream,  mortal  men !  .  .  .  Soon,  chord  on  sounding  chord, 
The  forest  will  be  drenched  with  melody.  .  .  . 
Sleep ! .  .  .  Dream ! .  .  .  Forget  dull  Care ! . . .  Farewell ! . . . 
\_As  he  speaks  the  last  words  NEOTIOS  slowly  leaves 
the  glade,  playing  on  his  citbara  and  pausing 
after  each  admonition.     The  rippling  chords  of 
the  citbara  are  expressed  by  a  series  of  arpeggios 
on  the  harp,     They  form  the  introduction  to  the 
Prelude,  which  is  now  played,     The  glade  and 
hillside  remain  empty,  dark,  and  silent.     The 
discourse  of  the  Prelude  begins  with  an  inter- 
pretation of  the  mysteries  of  the  forest  and  the 

[175] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

night.  Certain  motives  that  foreshadow  the  epi- 
sodes of  the  vision  are  then  introduced.  The 
Green  Knight  motive  and  the  Black  Knight  or 
Care  motive  recur  frequently.  'The  music  swells 
from  the  murmurings  indicative  of  the  forest  at 
night  to  the  thunders  of  the  Conflict  Music  and 
again  sinks  into  its  woodland  character.  A  new 
theme — that  of  the  Elf -King— finally  enters, 
and,  at  the  same  time,  a  figure  is  vaguely  seen 
moving  about  in  the  semi-darkness  on  the  lower 
hillside.  The  Elf -King  motive  is  developed  while 
the  figure,  which  is  that  of  the  ELF- KING,  ap- 
proaches gradually  from  the  darkness  until,  com- 
ing quite  near,  the  rays  of  the  rising  moon  fall 
upon  him.  Over  a  green  hose  he  wears  a  short, 
close-fitting  tunic  of  overlapping  green  leaves, 
touched  with  red  and  gold.  His  high  sandals 
are  of  gold.  He  wears  a  head-dress  of  gold  and 
jewels,  fashioned  in  the  form  of  an  owl.  A  long 
cloak  of  dark  green  gossamer  richly  embroidered 
in  gold  flows  from  his  shoulders.  He  carries  a 

f  olden  wand  tipped  with  jewels.    For  a  moment 
e  stands  in  rapt  contemplation  of  the  night. 
The  music  continues  as  he  speaks. 

THE  ELF-KING 

0  Night,  once  more,  once  more 

1  welcome  thee!  .  .  . 

At  last 

Thy  shadowy  cloak  is  cast 
Upon  the  woodland's  floor. 
What  mysteries  outpour 
From  forest  chambers  vast, 
From  aged  trees  and  hoar, 
Proud  heriters  of  lore, 
Rich  coffers  of  the  past ! 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

What  golden  music  sifts 

Among  the  boughs,  and  lifts 

Its  melody  on  high 

Where,  like  a  flower,  drifts 

The  moon  across  the  sky !  .  .  . 

Now  Nature,  in  a  swoon 

Of  love,  forgets  the  noon, 

And  treetops,  tower-stemmed, 

Are  brightly  diademmed 

By  yonder  palid  moon — 

A  silver  lily  there, 

In  gardens  of  the  air, 

With  pale  star-blossoms  gemmed, 

Pale  blossoms  that  have  hemmed 

The  dusky  robe  of  Night 

With  broideries  of  light 

Since  golden  stars  and  white 

The  fair  moon  made  more  fair. . . . 

On  all  the  world  sweet  Sleep 

Now  casts  her  subtle  power; 

No  life  defies  the  hour; 

No  living  thing,  no  flower 

But  nestles  in  the  dark; 

No  creature  dares  to  peep 

From  bramble  shadows  deep; 

No  cry  of  beast  or  bird 

In  all  the  wood  is  heard; 

No  voice  ...  no  sound.  .  .  . 

[An  owl  hoots  softly. 

But  hark! 

The  owl's  nocturnal  note 
Gainsays  my  wasted  word; 
Mysterious  and  remote, 
His  dreary  measures  float 
Afar  off  to  the  shore 
Of  the  land  that's  called— No  More. 

[177] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

\High  on  the  path,  in  the  direction  of  the  moon,  the 
youthful  figure  of  a  Moonbeam,  clad  in  di- 
aphanous garments  of  pale  blue,  white,  and 
silver,  and  crowned  with  silver  rays,  appears  and 
descends  to  the  glade.  Other  Moonbeams  follow 
at  intervals. 

Lo !  down  yon  pathway  steep 
The  silent  moonbeams  creep, 
As  from  a  languid  cloud 
The  moon,  with  silver  pro  wed, 
Sails  on  the  searchless  deep. 
With  noiseless  feet  they  troop 
Where  topmost  branches  droop ; 
Thro*  massy  trees  and  tall, 
See  how  they  softly  fall 
Like  petals  on  the  ground — 
Like  petals,  wreathing  round, 
They  fall  without  a  sound. 
Come,  moonbeams,  silver- white ! 
Come,  moonbeams  silver-bright! 
To  woodland  dark  and  dumb, 
Come,  moonbeams !  .  .  .  Come !  .  .  . 
Come! Come! 

[As  each  Moonbeam  reaches  a  position  in  the  glade, 
he  sinks  gently  to  the  ground— his  filmy  draperies 
spread  about  him — and  remains  motionless  until 
all  have  so  disposed  themselves.  'The  music  now 
merges  into  a  slow  dance,  and,  one  by  one,  the 
Moonbeams  rise  and  begin  to  glide  about  the 
glade,  rhythmically  moving  their  floating  dra- 
peries around  them.  In  this  wise  they  slip  in 
and  out  of  the  shadows  cast  by  the  great  trees. 
The  ELF-KING  ascends  to  a  station  on  the  lower 
hillside,  whence  he  watches  the  dancing  Moon- 
beams. After  a  time,  he  speaks. 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Dance  on,  dance  on,  ye  moonbeams  bright ! 

Before  your  gleaming  footsteps,  see, 

A  shadow  hides  behind  each  tree. 

As  tho'  it  could  not  bear  the  sight 

Of  phantoms  that  adorn  the  night. 

Dance  on,  while  to  this  charmed  spot, 

From  bower,  coppice,  nook,  and  grot — 

From  forest  shades  to  drifts  of  light, 

I  summon  goblin,  elf,  and  sprite. 

\fTbe  ELF- KING  turns  toward  the  hillside,  and,  wav- 
ing bis  wand — now  tipped  with  a  point  of  light 
— utters  a  call. 

Ho !  .  .  .  Ya-ho !  .  .  .  Yahoyahoyaho ! 

[An  echo  repeats  the  call  from  the  direction  of  the 
hill,  and,  at  the  same  moment,  a  number  of  tiny 
lights  are  seen  darting  hither  and  thither  on  the 
slope.  The  ELF-KING  calls  again. 

Ho !  .  .  .  Ya-ho !  .  .  .  Yahoyahoyaho ! 

\ffhe  call  is  again  repeated  by  an  echo.  Now  the 
heads  of  Elves  and  Goblins  peep  from  the  shrub- 
bery, and,  springing  from  their  hiding-places, 
the  fairy  folk,  to  the  accompaniment  of  sprightly 
elfin  music  come  pouring  down  into  the  glade, 
and  form  themselves  into  two  whirling  rings. 
One  of  these  is  in  the  glade  itself  and  the  other 
surrounds  the  ELF-KING  on  his  elevation.  In 
this  wise  the  Elves  and  Goblins  dance  about 
merrily.  "The  Moonbeams  withdraw  from  the 
centre  to  the  outskirts  of  the  glade,  and  continue 
to  sway  their  draperies  rhythmically.  Finally 
the  elfin  rings  break.  The  Goblins  run  about, 
pursuing  one  another  playfully.  One  tries  to 
escape  his  pursuer  by  hiding  behind  the  cloak  of 
the  ELF-KING.  Others  play  at  leap-frog.  Still 

[179] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

others  dart  in  and  out  among  the  dancing  Elves. 
The  ELF- KING  looks  on  indulgently.  The  Dance 
of  the  Elves  has  continued  for  some  time  when 
the  Black  Knight  of  Care  motive  is  heard.  The 
ELF-KING  starts  and  listens.  The  Care  motive 
is  heard  again,  and  he  displays  increasing 
alarm. 

What  sound  drives  silence  from  the  gloom, 
Where  awful  shadows  gauntly  loom, 
And  echoes  with  the  threat  of  doom  ? 

\He  listens.  The  Care  motive  is  heard  more  in- 
sistently. 

Once  more  the  forest  sighs,  once  more 
The  vagrom  winds  a  warning  pour 
From  hilltop  high  to  forest  floor. 

[He  comes  down  among  the  dancing  Elves  and  raises 
his  hand.  'The  Elves  and  Goblins  stop  dancing 
and  gather  about  him. 

Hold! .  .  .  Stop! .  .  .  Give  heed! .  .  . 

AN  ELF 

Nay,  nay,  I  plead ! 
I  pray! 

%  THE  ELF-KING 

Peace!.  .  .Peace!. 
Your  dancing  cease ! .  .  . 
Hark! .  .  .  Hark! .  .  .  There!  .  .  .  There! .  .  . 
He  comes ! .  . .  Beware 
Relentless  Care! 

THE  ELF  (protesting) 
No,  no ! 

[180] 


O 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

THE  ELF-KING  (cautioning) 

Go! Go! 

Thro'  dark  isles  glide !  .  .  . 

In  bracken  hide  .  .  . 

In  grasses  lush  .  .  . 

In  vine  and  brush  .  .  . 

Hush!... 

Away!  .  .  .  Away!  .  .  . 

Obey!... 

\_As  the  ELF-KING  admonishes  them,  the  Elves,  Gob- 
lins, and  Moonbeams  withdraw  stealthily  and 
enter  the  shrubbery  where  they  disappear.  'The 
ELF-KING  is  the  last  to  leave  the  glade,  which 
now  remains  empty.  During  this  scene  the  music 
is  reduced  to  fragmentary  phrases  of  the  Dance 
of  the  Rives  and  the  music  of  the  forest  at  night 
that  was  heard  in  the  Prelude.  Under  these  the 
Care  motive  is  heard  at  intervals,  with  greater 
power  at  each  repetition.  As  the  ELF-KING 
leaves  the  glade,  the  Care  motive  reaches  its  full 
development,  and  the  BLACK  KNIGHT  appears 
on  the  lower  hillside,  dragging  the  PRINCE  after 
him  by  the  wrist.  The  BLACK  KNIGHT  is  clad 
in  chain  mail,  a  hood  of  which  covers  his  head. 
Over  his  armor  he  wears  a  black  surcoat  with 
dagged  edges  that  comes  to  his  knees.  On 
the  breast  of  this  is  the  device  of  a  skull  in  ashy 
white.  His  face  is  of  a  grey  pallor  and  he  wears 
a  black  beard.  The  PRINCE  is  habited  in  a 
white  costume  befitting  his  rank  though  simple 
rather  than  rich.  The  BLACK  KNIGHT  strides 
down  to  the  middle  of  the  glade  and  flings  the 
PRINCE  violently  to  the  ground.  The  music 
ceases.  'The  PRINCE  buries  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  weeps. 

[181] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
THE  BLACK  KNIGHT  (brutally) 

There  wash  the  earth  with  flood  of  desperate  tears ! 

Weep,  fool !    At  last  thy  journey  is  at  end — 

Thy  journey  and  thy  peace.    Thro'  painful  leagues 

Of  serried  trees  that  mocked  with  dismal  moans 

Thy  futile  cries  we  now,  at  last,  are  come 

Unto  the  very  bowels  of  the  wood. 

These  halls  of  blackness  are  the  tomb  of  hope ; 

In  this,  my  dark  abode,  thou  shalt  remain 

And  give  me  service  till  thy  sickened  soul 

Is  loosened  by  the  clement  sword  of  Death. 

My  shadow  covers  thee  as  with  a  pall; 

Let  flow  thy  wild,  hot  tears,  for  nevermore 

Shalt  thou  be  plucked  from  out  the  shroud  of  Care. 

Beneath  that  cruel  sheet  there  is  no  rest; 

Who  sleeps  therein  must  tenant  dreams  of  pain, 

Of  anguish,  and  of  fear.    As  stone  on  stone 

Strikes  sparks  of  sudden  fire  that  quickly  die, 

So,  in  thy  cracking  brain,  shall  visions  flash 

Of  bygone  joys  and  agonies  to  be. 

Yea,  Memory,  turned  monster,  shall  unroll 

Before  thine  eager  eyes  delighting  scenes 

Of  feasts  and  pageants,  gardens,  warriors,  slaves, 

Soft  maidens,  music,  love,  and  dark-hued  wines. 

THE  PRINCE 

No  more,  in  pity !    Ah,  no  more !  no  more ! 
See  how  these  tears  beseech  thee !    Let  them  melt 
Thine  iron  heart;  or,  failing,  word  thy  wish. 
The  King,  my  father,  shall  requite  thee;  yea, 
E'en  to  his  realm !    Break  thy  design,  and  gold, 
Like  rain,  shall  pour  upon  thee.    Thou  shalt  wade, 
Thigh-deep,  a  golden  river,  margined  fair 
By  pebbled  banks  strewn  all  with  jewels  rare. 
Have  pity! 

[i8a] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 
THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 

Peace!    Hope  not,  thou  whining  dog, 
That  weeping  shall  unproof  my  master  will, 
Nor  deem  I  snatched  thee  from  thy  father's  court 
To  let  thee  free  for  pity!    Nay,  thou  swine! 
Should  every  tear  that  drips  from  thy  mad  eyes 
Become  a  splendid  jewel  at  my  feet, 
Thou  wouldst  not  lessen  by  a  single  pang 
The  anguish  I  ordain  to  feed  my  hate. 
The  King,  thy  father,  reft  of  his  poor  whelp, 
Shall  yield  me  tribute,  not  in  riches  vast, 
But  days  and  nights  of  sorrow  till  he  dies. 
E'en  now  he  sits,  mid  palace-splendors,  dumb 
With  grief.    Thy  mother,  unconsoled,  distraught, 
In  anguish  wrings  the  hands  that  fondled  thee; 
Despair  with  cruel  fingers  tears  her  heart, 
While  Madness  like  a  vulture  hovers  near 
And  mocks  her  prey.  .  .  . 

THE  PRINCE 

Ah,  fiend!  vile  fiend!  of  hell's  dark  brood  most  vile! 
Mine  eyes  forget  their  tears  of  anguish,  yet 
They  weep  for  shame  that  thy  befouling  sight 
Hath  seen  them  weep.    I  do  defy  thee,  fiend! 

THE  BLACK  KNIGHT  (laughing) 

Thy  rashness  doth  beguile  me.    Like  a  flame 

It  burns  from  thy  quick  heart — from  that  quick  heart 

That  I  shall  slowly  crush  as  though  it  were 

A  helpless  nestling  shivering  in  my  hand. 

Thy  woe  shall  pleasure  me  for  many  days ; 

Here  shall  I  lesson  thee  to  covet  death; 

To  pant  and  cry  for  death's  sweet  mercy — yea, 

And  I  shall  laugh  till  hell's  black  walls  resound! 

\_He  laughs. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Come,  Madolor!    What  ho!    Ho,  Madolor! 

[MADOLOR,  a  hideous,  misshapen  dwarf,  enters.  He 
is  habited  shabbily  in  greenish  black.  His  short 
tunic  has  a  long  black  hood  that  hangs  down  his 
back,  and  he  wears  a  belt  of  black  leather.  His 
hair  is  short  and  unkempt.  He  carries  a  human 
thigh-bone  in  his  hand.  A  mysterious  and 
ghastly  light  that  seems  to  emanate  from  his 
person  adds  to  his  terrifying  aspect.  A  red 
glint  flashes  from  his  eyes. 

MADOLOR 
Master,  I  am  here. 

THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 

Take  thou  this  pretty  stripling,  Madolor. 
A  royal  prize!    He  is  the  King's  own  son. 

MADOLOR 

Be  thou  the  King's  own  son  or  bastard  from  the  belly 
of  thy  dam,  thou  shalt  be  chambered  as  thou  never  wast 
before.  Hard  by,  there  is  a  cavern;  on  its  miry  floor 
crawl  vipers,  toads,  and  filthy  vermin.  There,  in  slime 
and  ordure  thou  shalt  lie  and  spew  thy  heart. 

THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 

Thy  purpose  brims  my  wish,  good  Madolor, 
But  hither  hale  my  captives — they  that  rode 
In  proudest  panoply  beside  the  King. 

(to  the  PRINCE) 

Thou  touchest  at  thy  doom  and  now  shalt  see 
How  I  do  break  men's  souls.    Go,  Madolor! 

MADOLOR 
I  need  no  goading  for  this  swineherd's  work;  it  suits 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

my  aspirations  as  maggots  suit  a  bloated  carcass  festering 

in  the  sun. 

[MADOLOR  goes  out.  Darkness  falls  as  from  a  cloud 
passing  across  the  moon.  The  BLACK  KNIGHT 
stands  in  the  middle  of  the  glade,  illumined  by 
a  dim  and  ghastly  light  that  falls  athwart  the 
dark  and  towering  trees. 

THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 

Now  when  the  midnight, 
With  horror  and  blackness, 
Spreadeth  its  wings 
Like  some  foul  bird  of  prey, 
Hear  me,  O  Sathanas, 
Hear  me,  thou  mighty  one, 
Father  of  Sin 
And  begetter  of  Evil! 
Hear  me  and  judge  me, 
O  monarch  and  master! 

Thou,  round  whose  iron  throne 

Raven  forever 

The  flame  and  the  roar 

Of  thy  furnaces  dread, 

Mingled  with  cries 

Of  thy  gibbering  demons, 

Pierced  by  the  moans 

And  the  shrieks  of  the  damned; 

Thou  who  tormentest 

The  spirits  of  dead  men, 

Hear  me  and  see 

How  I  strive  in  thy  service — 

Strive  to  embitter 

The  world  with  disaster; 

Strive  to  load  life 

With  the  terrors  of  hell ! 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Into  my  hands 
Thou  hast  given  the  power 
To  smite  all  mankind 
With  the  sharp  scourge  of  Care; 
Well  have  I  labored, 
And  now  in  the  passion 
Of  hatred's  fulfillment 
I  glorify  thee! 

Sathanas!  .  .  .  Sathanas!  .  .  . 
Answer  thy  servitor! 
Sathanas!    Answer  me! 
Father  and  lord! 

\*The  earth  opens  on  the  lower  hillside,  disclosing  the 
red  and  luminous  interior  of  a  cavern.  Flames 
are  seen  leafing  within;  thunder  roars;  lightning 
flashes  through  the  forest.  In  the  mouth  of  the 
cavern  and  against  the  fiery  background  stands 
SATHANAS,  completely  habited  in  black  and  wear- 
ing a  black  cloak. 

SATHANAS 

Thou  serv'st  me  well,  O  son  of  mine,  most  well. 

I  am  content  with  thee.  .  .  . 

But  falter  not  nor  stay  thy  cruelties! 

Let  sink  thy  venom  deeper  in  the  breasts 

Of  men,  and  send  them  shuddering  to  their  doom! 

Cease  not  to  sow  corruption  in  the  world; 

So  reap  I  fuller  harvest  for  my  fires! 

With  powers  darker,  more  malign  and  fell 

Thee  I  engird  that  thou  may'st  doubly  serve 

Thy  lust  and  mine.  .  .  .  But  cheat  not  Death  too  long! 

Corrode  with  care  the  heart  of  innocence ! 

Defile  the  springs  of  happiness,  and  pollute 

With  lechery  the  virgin  founts  of  love! 

And  yet,  remember  that 't  is  I !  .  .  .  I !  .  .  .  I !  .  •  • 

Whom  thou  dost  serve — I,  Sathanas,  thy  god! 

[186] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Hold  not  my  victims  to  indulge  thy  hate! 
Send  to  my  house  forthwith  yon  cringing  thing 
To  feed  the  altar  flames  that  leap  and  hiss 
Upon  the  ruddy  battlements  of  hell! 

[SATHANAS  disappears  amid  flames  accompanied  by 
thunder  and  lightning,  and  the  cavern  closes  in 
darkness. 

THE  PRINCE 
(kneeling  and  crossing  himself) 

O  thou  Almighty,  everlasting  God, 
Defend  thy  servant  in  his  peril  and  need! 

(praying  with  repressed  fervor) 

Illumina,  quaesumus,  Domine  Deus,  tenebras  nostras; 
et  totius  hujus  noctis  insidias  tu  a  nobis  repelle  propitius. 
Per  Dominum  nostrum  Jesum  Christum  Filium  tuum, 
qui  tecum  vivit  et  regnat  in  unitate  Spiritus  Sancti  Deus, 
per  omnia  saecula  saeculorum.  Amen. 

[MADOLOR  runs  in  and,  approaching  the  BLACK 
KNIGHT,  speaks  with  savage  glee. 

MADOLOR 

Hither  comes  the  mongrel  pack,  as  mangy  dogs  as  ever 
bitch  gave  birth  to. 

[As  MADOLOR  speaks,  the  first  of  the  Captives  enters. 
Others,  singly  and  in  twos  and  threes,  straggle 
in  slowly,  walking  with  bowed  heads.  'They  are 
garbed  in  long,  shabby  coats  of  sombre  hues.  As 
the  Captives  shamble  in,  a  lugubrious  strain  of 
music  is  heard.  It  gradually  increases  in  vol- 
ume as  they  fill  the  scene.  The  PRINCE  looks 
furtively  at  the  faces  of  one  after  another,  while 
MADOLOR  goes  about  among  them  uttering 
threats  and  abuse  and  striking  them  with  his 
thigh-bone  cudgel. 

[187] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Come!  ye  move  as  slow  as  any  glutted  beast,  altho* 
your  guts  are  withered  from  disuse.  Move!  Move!  or 
I  shall  smite  you  with  this  treeless  root  I  digged  from 
out  a  grave! 

\fthe  PRINCE  recognizes  some  of  the  Captives  and 
speaks  to  tbem. 

THE  PRINCE 

Agenor,  is  it  thou  ?  .  .  .  He  knows  me  not, 

But  stares  with  empty  eyes  that  would  seem  dead 

Did  they  not  move  and  gaze. 

Ah,  Lucan,  speak! 

Andred!    Meliot!  ...  No!    Ah,  now  I  feel 
The  deadliest  stings  of  Care! 

THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 

What  thinkest  thou 
Of  vassalage  in  my  domain  ?    Behold 
How  pride  and  strength  are  changed  to  misery! 

[ARCHOLON,  an  old  man  with  a  white  beard,  is  the 
last  of  the  Captives  to  enter.  He  wears  the 
shabby  garb  of  a  priest.  The  PRINCE  approaches 
him. 

THE  PRINCE 

Good  Archolon,  't  is  thou!    Yes,  yes,  't  is  thou! 
Thine  eyes  with  memory  kindle!    Heaven  be  praised! 

[fbey  embrace. 
ARCHOLON 

Unhappy  boy!  .  .  .  O  God,  hast  thou  forgot 
This  tender  child  all  innocent  of  sin  ? 

(to  the  PRINCE) 

Alas  that  I  should  see  thee  in  this  place! 
Thou  makest  bright  the  moment,  and  my  heart 

[188] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Is  warmed  to  feel  thine  fluttering  in  thy  breast. 

\The  BLACK  KNIGHT  approaches  and  seizing  the 
PRINCE  drags  him,  despite  bis  struggles,  away 
from  ARCHOLON. 

THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 

So,  thou  hast  found  a  friend  ?    'T  is  well.    My  hate 
Shall  feast  twofold,  for  ye  shall  suffer  more 
In  seeing  anguish  rend  the  other's  soul. 
Thou  callest  on  thy  god  ?    What  is  thy  god 
Who  lets  thee  suffer?    Bah!  a  man-made  god 
Ye  worship  with  your  chants  and  mummery! 
But  I  am  neither  man  nor  made  of  man, 
For  I  am  Care,  that  tortureth  all  mankind. 
I  own  no  king,  and  bow  to  but  one  god — 
Great  Sathanas,  the  Ruler  of  the  World! 

(to  MADOLOR) 

Drive  to  their  dens  these  swine,  but  leave  this  cub 
To  contemplate  the  moon  that  shines  afar 
On  happier  scenes  he  never  more  shall  know. 

(to  the  PRINCE) 

I  leave  thee  in  these  silent  halls  of  gloom, 
Remember,  and  be  thoughtful  of  thy  doom. 

\ffhe  BLACK  KNIGHT  goes  out.  MADOLOR  runs 
among  the  Captives,  and  begins  driving  them 
from  the  glade. 

MADOLOR 

Begone!  Dost  love  my  buffets  as  I  love  to*give?  (to 
a  lagging  Captive)  If  thou  wouldst  stay  thou  shalt,  but  I 
shall  slay  thee  first,  and  thou  shalt  rot  here  on  the 
ground,  and  so  bestink  the  place  that  all  the  winds  shall 
carry  bidding  to  the  red-eyed  crows  to  gorge  upon  thy 
entrails.  Be  off,  I  say,  be  off!  (to  ARCHOLON)  Be  off, 

[189] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

thou  grey  old  louse!  Thou  starvling  dung-fly.  Must  this 
sweet  cudgel  teach  thee  once  again  to  heed  my  words? 
I'll  beat  thee  till  thou  canst  not  say  thy  prayers! 

[MADOLOR  seizes  ARCHOLON  and  drives  him  from 

the  glade  with  blows.     He  then  addresses  the 

PRINCE. 

Now,  whelpling,  think  on  what  thou  here  hast  seen, 
and  things  more  dire  that  thou  yet  shalt  see.  (ironically) 
Thou  hast  a  valiant  spirit —  aye,  thou  art  brave !  Thou 
fearest  not  afrits  and  demons  of  the  haunted  wood,  nor 
hideous  beasts  with  gnashing  fangs  that  prowl  in  yonder 
shadows!  Thou  dost  not  fear,  for  thou  art  brave,  (ma- 
lignantly) I  leave  thee  to  thy  fancies ;  they  can  take  thee 
hence  on  journeys  of  desire,  but  naught  can  take  thy 
body  from  this  spot.  Here  thou  shalt  writhe  beneath  the 
strangling  claws  of  Pain,  to  taste,  at  last,  the  bitter  kiss 
of  Death! 

[MADOLOR  leaves  the  glade,  turning  as  he  does  so 
with  a  vicious  gesture.  The  PRINCE,  flinging 
himself  on  the  ground,  buries  his  face  in  his 
hands  and  weeps  silently.  The  sound  of  a  harp 
is  now  heard  in  a  series  of  arpeggios,  which 
merges  into  a  melody  that  expresses  musically 
the  dejection  of  the  PRINCE.  After  the  music 
has  been  heard  for  some  time,  the  elfin  lights 
begin  to  flit  about  in  the  shrubbery,  and  the  ELF- 
KING  enters,  followed  by  the  Elves  and  Goblins. 
He  stands  by  the  PRINCE  and  looks  at  him  com- 
passionately, ^he  music  of  the  Dance  of  the 
Elves  recommences,  and  the  fairy  folk  dance 
again.  After  a  little,  the  PRINCE  raises  his 
head  and  gazes  with  bewilderment  at  the  dancing 
sprites.  He  does  not,  however,  see  the  ELF- 
KING,  who  presently  touches  him  on  the  shoulder 
making,  at  the  same  time,  a  sign  to  the  Elves 

[190] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

and  Goblins,  who  cease  dancing  and  run  off 
among  the  trees. 

THE  ELF-KING 

Peace,  weary  heart,  be  not  afraid, 

Tho'  Care  and  Pain  deny  thee  rest; 

Fear  not,  but  know  thy  life  is  blest, 

And  face  thy  trial  undismayed. 

Let  merry  elves,  that  danced  and  played 

Within  this  dark  and  cheerless  glade, 

Bring  hope  and  courage  to  thy  breast. 

Thy  life  a  fairy  charm  attends — 

All  evil  things  its  power  defies — 

For,  as  a  child,  thou  call'dst  us  friends, 

Tho'  sightless  to  thy  watchful  eyes.  .  .  . 

[The  sounds  of  approaching  steps,  suggested  music- 
ally,  is  followed  by  a  strain  of  spiritual  quality, 
accompanying  the  following  lines  which  the  ELF- 
KING  speaks  very  slowly  and  mystically. 

But  hark!  the  wind  no  longer  sighs; 

Across  the  solemn  night  I  hear 

A  sound  that  to  thy  mortal  ear 

May  whisper  of  a  step  that  wends 

Thro*  forest  ways.    Near  and  more  near 

It  comes,  while  from  Night's  dusky  hood 

The  moon  now  sheds  her  tender  beams. 

What  mystery  is  nigh  ?    It  seems 

As  if,  from  out  the  gate  of  dreams, 

Some  spirit  wanders  thro'  the  wood. 

Come  .  .  .  follow  me  and  falter  not — 

The  elves,  thy  friends,  now  guard  this  spot — 

In  yonder  coppice  let  us  hide 

And  see  what  fortune  may  betide. 

[Following  the  ELF-KING'S  allusion  to  the  moon, 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

moonlight  slowly  suffuses  the  hillside  as  well  as 
the  glade.  At  the  bidding  of  the  ELF-KING,  the 
PRINCE  rises  and  follows  him.  'Together  they 
steal  into  the  shrubbery  at  one  side  of  the  glade 
which  is  thus  left  empty.  The  mystical  music 
now  changes  into  an  heroic  phrase — the  Green 
Knight  motive —  and  the  mounted  figure  of  the 
GREEN  KNIGHT  moves  along  the  highest  path  on 
the  hillside.  His  white  horse  is  covered  with  a 
green  housing,  ornamented  with  gold  and  with 
redwood  trees  embroidered  upon  it.  He  wears 
full  armor  and  over  it  a  green  parament,  bearing 
on  the  breast  the  device  of  a  redwood  tree.  His 
shield  is  of  the  same  color  and  design  as  is  also 
the  pennant  that  flies  from  the  point  of  his 
lance.  Three  white  plumes  surmount  his  helmet y 
the  vizor  of  which  is  closed.  His  horse  is  led  by 
an  Elf  who  carries  a  small  torch.  The  GREEN 
KNIGHT  slowly  descends  the  winding  path  on 
the  hillside.  The  music  continues.  When  he 
reaches  the  glade  he  approaches  the  place  where 
the  brazen  shield  hangs ,  and  strikes  it  a  blow 
with  his  lance.  The  shield  gives  out  a  loud, 
clangorous  sound  that  echoes  through  the  forest. 
The  music  ceases.  The  reverberations  have 
scarcely  died  away  when  the  BLACK  KNIGHT 
rides  in.  He  is  mounted  on  a  black  charger 
covered  with  a  black  housing  bearing  the  device 
of  a  skull.  He  carries  a  shield  with  the  same 
device,  and  wears  a  closed  helmet  surmounted  by 
a  black  plume. 

THE  BLACK  KNIGHT 

Defiant  thunders  thine  audacious  hand 

Hath  loosened  from  yon  shield,  and  now,  rash  knight, 

Behold  me,  quick  upon  thy  summons,  here 

[192] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

To  smite  thee  down  and  render  thee  to  death. 
Who  art  thou  that  entrudest  on  this  ground, 
Where  no  man  setteth  foot  but  as  my  slave  ? 
Thy  blazon  doth  proclaim  thee  of  a  realm 
Unknown ;  thy  mien  betokens  insolence 
That  I  shall  turn  to  homage  of  my  might 
Before  I  pour  thy  blood  upon  the  earth. 

[The  GREEN  KNIGHT  remains  motionless  and  im- 
passive. 

Wilt  thou  not  speak  a  word  ?  .  .  .  I  tell  thee,  dog, 
Tho'  thou  be  dumb  as  seems,  thy  wretched  tongue 
Shall  utter  cries  to  fright  the  very  beasts 
That  will  engorge  themselves  upon  thy  corpse.  .  .  . 
Near  by  there  is  a  glen  where  thou  shalt  lie — 
There  follow  me  since  thou  hast  mind  to  die ! 

\jTbe  GREEN  KNIGHT  makes  a  gesture  of  assent,  and, 
the  BLACK  KNIGHT  preceding,  they  ride  out  of 
the  glade.  ARCHOLON  and  the  Captives,  some 
of  whom  carry  torches,  now  enter,  cautiously 
but  with  suppressed  excitement,  from  one  sidey 
and  the  PRINCE  from  the  other. 

THE  PRINCE 

In  yonder  glen  didst  thou  not  see  the  knight 
Who  rides  to  battle  with  our  foe  ?    Give  thanks 
To  God,  for  we  are  saved  at  last! 

ARCHOLON 

Nay,  boy, 

The  golden  lamp  of  hope  still  burns  for  thee; 
Alas,  we  know  how  many  a  doughty  knight 
Hath  bowed  before  dread  Care's  resistless  shock. 
Our  fate  is  in  the  hands  of  God  on  high; 
We  can  but  trust  in  him,  and  so  beseech 
His  mercy.    Now  in  prayer  let  us  kneel ! 

[193] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

[The  PRINCE  and  the  Captives  kneeL  The  prayer 
is  expressed  entirely  in  music.  It  is  in  the 
form  of  a  chorale  divided  into  strophes.  After 
each  strophe,  music  expressive  of  the  onrush  and 
shock  of  conflict  and  combined  with  the  clash  of 
arms,  is  heard.  In  these  intervals  ARCHOLON, 
who  remains  standing  on  an  elevation  above  the 
others,  speaks,  without  accompaniment,  the  fol- 
lowing lines: 

{First  strophe] 

Almighty  God,  we  have  suffered  in  Thy  sight !    Grant  us 
grace!  .  .  . 

[Second  strophe] 

Eternal  Father  of  us  all,  look  down  upon  our  woe !    De- 
liver us,  O  God!  .  .  . 

[Third  strophe] 

Hear  us,  O  Lord,  and  have  mercy  upon  us!    Grant  us 
grace!  .  .  .  Deliver  us,  O  God!  .  .  . 

[ARCHOLON  ascends  the  lower  hillside  whence  he  can 
view  the  conflict.  After  a  fourth  strophe  of  music 
there  is  a  clash  of  arms  accompanied  by  the 
Conflict  Music. 

The  contest  waits  o'er  long  and  augurs  well. 
As  some  black  billow  of  a  cloud-hung  sea 
Is  dashed  upon  a  lofty  verdured  rock, 
The  foul  one  hurls  his  bulk  upon  his  foe. 

[A  clash  of  arms  is  heard  accompanied  by  the  Con- 
flict Music. 

(with  animation) 

What  see  my  eyes!    He  falls!    O  God  in  heaven, 
Now  lend  Thy  grace  to  him  who  fights  for  Thee! 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

[A  trumpet  gives  the  first  phrase  of  the  Green  Knight 
motive. 

(exultingly  to  the  others) 
Let  joy,  a  stranger  to  your  grieved  hearts, 
Revive  your  strength.    Now,  with  new  zeal,  exalt 
The  everlasting  God  who  heard  your  prayer! 

[The  Captives  rise  with  a  show  of  excitement,  and 
ARCHOLON  comes  down  among  them.  The 
GREEN  KNIGHT  now  rides  in,  carrying  in  his 
right  hand  the  head  of  the  BLACK  KNIGHT  sus- 
pended by  the  hair.  In  the  same  hand  he  grasps 
his  drawn  sword.  He  lets  the  head  fall  into  the 
hands  of  one  of  the  liberated  Captives  who  casts 
it  disdainfully  into  the  brush  that  borders  the 
glade.  ARCHOLON  approaches  the  GREEN  KNIGHT 
and  addresses  him. 

Thou  hast  destroyed  the  enemy  of  man. 
Thou  has  set  free  his  vassals.    Once  again 
We  look  upon  the  heavens  bending  o'er 
These  aged  trees  that  were  our  prison  walls, 
And  all  their  beauty  enters  in  our  souls. 
No  more  their  mightiness  a  menace  seems ; 
No  more  we  languish  helpless  in  despair, 
For  thou  hast  lifted  from  our  limbs  the  chains 
Of  woe  that  burdened  us,  and  from  our  hearts 
The  galling  weight  of  care.  .  .  . 

Wilt  thou  not  speak  ? . . . 

Wilt  thou  not  name  thyself? . . .  Whence  comest  thou  ? . . . 
Thy  silence  covers  not  thy  nobleness, 
But  fills  my  vision  with  a  holy  awe; 
Thou  seemest  as  a  being  not  of  earth, 
But  heaven-sent,  an  instrument  of  God. 

[A  distant  horn  is  heard  from  the  direction  of  the  hill. 

[195] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

THE  PRINCE 
Hark!    A  horn  rings  from  the  night! 

\¥he  horn  is  heard  again. 

Once  more 

Its  trembling  note  rides  on  the  shaken  air.  .  .  . 
Now  does  its  sweet,  familiar  cadence  draw 
My  soul! 

\fThe  horn  is  heard  again. 

Yes,  yes,  I  know  that  valiant  blast! 
It  is — it  is  the  company  of  the  King! 
He  comes !    The  King,  my  father,  comes !    Make  haste ! 
The  way  is  dark.  .  .  .  They  wander  in  the  wood.  .  .  . 
With  torches  meet  their  coming  and  make  bright 
The  pathway's  tracing  stolen  by  the  night! 

\While  the  PRINCE  is  speaking,  the  GREEN  KNIGHT 
turns  and  rides  slowly  to  a  station  on  the  lower 
hillside.  At  the  PRINCE'S  bidding,  some  of  the 
liberated  Captives,  carrying  torches,  leave  the 
glade  and  are  seen  ascending  the  hillside.  The 
PRINCE  turns  to  ARCHOLON. 

Mark,  Archolon,  the  silent  stranger  makes 

As  tho'  he  would  depart.  .  .  .  But  no !  ...  He  stands !  .  .  . 

\¥he  GREEN  KNIGHT,  with  an  august  gesture,  raises 
his  vizor.  A  miraculous  light  floods  his  counte- 
nance. 

What  wonder  starts  my  sight!    Meseems  his  face 
Shines  as  if  touched  with  strange  celestial  light, 
And  on  my  brow  I  feel,  like  a  caress, 
The  wafture  of  mysterious,  unseen  wings. 

THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Listen  to  my  words,  O  happy  mortals, 
Ye  who  late  within  this  mighty  forest 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Languished  in  the  heavy  chains  of  terror. 

Listen,  and  exalt  in  adoration 

Him  who  from  the  radiant  throne  of  heaven 

Sent  me  to  deliver  you  from  bondage. 

Nameless  must  I  be,  but  know  that  yonder, 

In  the  spacious  dwelling  of  the  angels, 

In  the  peaceful  dwelling  of  the  angels, 

We,  the  chosen,  cleansed  of  sin  and  shriven, 

Watch  and  guard  the  blood  of  Christ,  our  Saviour, 

Chaliced  in  the  Holy  Grail's  perfection. 

Thence  have  I,  with  righteous  arms  invested, 

Sought  this  dark  abode  of  evil  spirits, 

Sought  and  slain  the  demon,  Care,  avenging 

Immemorial  wrong  and  malefaction. 

Care  is  dead  and  by  my  sword  hath  perished 

Vile  and  cruel  Pain,  his  loathly  creature. 

Once  again  ye  walk  the  earth  unfettered. 

Be  ye  humble  therefore  and  forget  not, 

Tho'  Adversity's  bleak  spear  should  wound  you, 

God's  all-seeing  love  and  grace  eternal 

Shall  deliver  you  and  clothe  your  spirits 

With  a  robe  of  glory  everlasting. 

\^A  horn  call  is  beard  near  at  hand  from  the  direction 
of  the  hill.  It  is  followed  by  another  and 
another,  and,  finally,  by  a  fanfare  that  merges 
into  a  march.  The  persons  in  the  glade,  with 
the  exception  of  the  GREEN  KNIGHT,  look  with 
expectancy  toward  the  hill,  and  on  the  highest 
path  a  torch-bearer  appears  leading  a  horse  on 
which  rides  the  KING,  clad  in  mail.  His  sur- 
coat  is  quartered  in  red  and  gold,  as  is  his 
horse's  housing,  and  both  bear  the  device  of  an 
owl.  His  shield  and  the  pennant  that  flies  from 
the  point  of  his  lance  are  quartered  in  the  same 
colors.  On  his  helmet  is  a  golden  crown  sur- 
mounted by  a  red  plume.  He  is  followed  by 

[197] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

four  mounted  knights  wearing  armor  and  carry- 
ing lances  and  shields,  The  horses  of  the 
knights  are  led  by  torch-bearers,  The  FIRST 
KNIGHT  wears  a  parament  of  dark  blue,  and 
his  horse's  housing  is  of  the  same  color.  His 
parament,  housing,  shield,  and  pennant  bear 
the  device  of  a  scroll  and  stylus.  'The  SECOND 
KNIGHT'S  color  is  yellow  and  his  device  is  a 
pipe  and  syrinx.  The  THIRD  KNIGHT  wears 
dark  red  and  bears  the  device  of  a  brush  and 
palette  of  archaic  form.  The  FOURTH  KNIGHT 
wears  bright  blue  and  his  device  is  a  sculptor's 
chisel  and  maul.  The  Kings  March  continues 
as  the  company  descends  the  winding  path  on 
the  hillside.  As  the  KING  approaches  the  level 
of  the  glade  the  PRINCE  ascends  to  meet  him  and 
some  of  the  liberated  Captives  move  toward  the 
advancing  knights.  The  PRINCE  greets  his 
father  and  walks  at  his  stirrup  as  he  enters  the 
glade.  The  four  knights  range  themselves  at 
one  side,  opposite  the  KING.  The  music  ceases. 

THE  KING 

My  heart  is  like  a  golden  cup  of  roses, 

Where  winged  Joy  drinks  deep  the  sweet  excess ! 

[He  leans  down  and  kisses  the  PRINCE. 

ARCHOLON 

Give  praise  unto  the  Lord,  for  now  indeed 
Do  blessings  fall  like  flowers  from  his  hand! 
Behold,  O  King,  thy  vassals,  yet  not  one 
More  joyed  to  bow  before  thy  will  than  I! 

THE  KING 

'T  is  Archolon,  and  these  my  goodly  knights ! 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Now  smiling  Fortune  sets  a  brighter  crown 
Upon  the  brow  of  Happiness.  .  .  .  But  thou, 
My  son,  of  all  the  jewels  in  that  crown, 
Art  brightest  to  mine  eyes  and  to  my  heart 
Most  dear.    Ah,  would  that  I,  who  knew  not  hope, 
Might  wing  my  grateful  words  to  God  on  high, 
Who  gave  thee  to  me  from  thy  mother's  womb, 
And  gives  thee  once  again  from  this  dark  tomb ! 

THE  PRINCE 

We  have  been  spared  by  Death,  yet,  in  this  spot, 
His  grim  and  awful  presence  made  us  free. 
For  here,  our  captor,  Care,  a  demon  foul, 
Was  slain  by  yonder  gracious  knight;  to  him 
We  owe  our  lives  and,  owing  life,  owe  all. 

THE  KING 

Sir  knight,  thy  deed  Til  not  affront  with  praise, 
But  show  thee  to  what  honor  in  my  heart 
Thy  prowess  and  thy  sword  have  brought  thee.  .  . 
Come  thou  unto  my  court  and  I,  each  day, 
Shall  give  thee  what  each  day  thou  namest;  or 
Desire  at  once  my  sceptre  and  my  crown 
And  they  are  thine. 

THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Not  for  guerdon  has  my  sword  been  wielded; 
To  thy  court  I  may  not  ride  in  triumph, 
But  to  vasty  realms  beyond  the  starlight 
Whence  I  came  must  I  be  straight  returning. 
Ere  I  go,  my  task  fulfilled,  I  bid  thee 
Listen  to  the  high  and  solemn  mandate, 
Through  me  given  by  our  heavenly  Master; 
Care  no  longer,  like  a  jackal  prowling, 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Fills  the  forest  with  portentous  terrors. 
Thou  shalt  drive  the  memory  of  his  presence 
From  this  grove  forever,  and  shalt  suffer 
Naught  but  gladness  to  abide  within  it — 
Gladness  and  the  peace  begot  of  Beauty. 
And,  as  time  the  cirque  of  years  rolls  onward, 
Hither  shall  thy  children  come  rejoicing. 
Here  shall  flowers  bloom  and  cast  their  incense 
On  the  lyric  breezes  sweet  with  bird-song; 
Here  shall  gracile  deer  and  hasty  squirrel 
Wander  unmolested  thro*  the  greenwood ; 
Bending  ferns  shall  catch  the  golden  sunlight, 
That,  with  straight  and  shimmering  lance,  impierces 
All  the  pillared  chambers  of  the  forest ; 
And  when  night  with  darkness  drapes  the  hours 
Mirth  shall  ripple  thro*  these  leafy  arches. 
Thus  thy  children  and  thy  children's  children 
Shall,  in  token  of  thy  faith  and  purpose, 
Bring  to  pass  redemption  of  the  woodland. 

Yonder  lies  the  corpse  of  Care.    Go  thither! 

Rear  a  lofty  pyre  of  mighty  branches, 

And  upon  the  flames'  devouring  fury 

Cast  the  husk  that  held  the  sap  of  evil ! 

\jTbe  King's  March — diminished  in  both  length  and 
volume — is  again  beard.  The  company,  led  by 
the  KING,  slowly  withdraws  from  the  glade,  ^the 
PRINCE  is  about  to  follow  the  others  when  the 
GREEN  KNIGHT  addresses  him.  'The  PRINCE 
ascends  to  where  the  GREEN  KNIGHT  stands. 
The  music  ceases. 

Come  thou  hither  and  attend  my  bidding! 

\He  dismounts. 

This,  my  sword,  I  give  thee — use  it  nobly; 
Care  it  slew,  and,  in  the  years  that  wait  thee, 

[200] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Use  thou  it  with  honor.    Take  this  charger, 
Comrade  of  my  questing,  and  remember 
Him  who  rode  against  thy  dread  tormentor.  .  .  . 
Leave  me  now,  and  with  thy  kingly  father 
Scatter  on  the  wind  Care's  loathsome  ashes. 
Fare  thee  well,  and  thus  I  gravely  charge  thee; 
Whilst  thou  livest,  glorify  thy  Master! 
Glorify  thy  God  and  praise  his  bounty! 
Glorify  the  Lord,  whose  greatest  glory 
Calls  on  men  to  serve  the  cause  of  Beauty! 

[The  PRINCE  takes  the  GREEN  KNIGHT'S  sword  and 
horse  and  slowly  leaves  the  glade.  As  be  does 
so  the  area  of  moonlight  is  gradually  reduced — 
as  if  clouds  were  passing  across  the  face  of  the 
moon — until  only  the  lower  hillside,  where  the 
GREEN  KNIGHT  is  standing,  is  illumined.  <The 
GREEN  KNIGHT  remains  silent  for  a  short  time, 
as  if  in  meditation.  He  then  speaks  with  the 
greatest  solemnity. 

God  shall  bless  them  who  serve  the  cause  of  Beauty; 
God  shall  bless  them,  for  God  himself  is  Beauty — 
Ancient  spirit  of  all  that  ye  most  cherish, 
Who  the  visible  forms  of  Nature  worship 
And  the  mysteries  of  her  mighty  bosom. 
Beauty  healeth  the  hearts  of  those  who  seek  her; 
Yet,  thro*  Beauty,  men  suffer,  yea,  and  perish, 
Bearing  bravely  the  burthen  of  her  service. 
Beauty  crowneth  the  quiet  brows  of  Patience — 
Patience  following  dreams  that  lure  the  dreamer 
Into  solitudes  none  may  know  but  dreamers. 
Beauty  giveth  to  love  its  peace  and  rapture; 
Yet  shall  Beauty  these  gifts  bestow  upon  you. 
Beauty  whispereth  secret  words  to  poets — 
Words  that  open  the  inner  gates  of  vision, 
Through  which  wander  the  errant  feet  of  Fancy. 

[201] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

[Music  begins  softly  with  an  announcement  of  the 
Beauty  theme. 

Beauty  soareth  upon  the  wings  of  music, 
Calling  harmonies  from  the  lute  and  viol. 
Kingship  passeth;  its  splendors  fade  as  flowers; 
Temples  crumble  to  dust  and  cities  vanish; 
Yea!  these  lofty  and  ancient  trees  shall  follow 
Fate's  implacable  law,  but  Beauty  riseth, 
Bright  and  glorious,  sweet  and  everlasting. 
Here,  in  forests  beneath  the  weightless  curtain, 
Woven  cunningly  by  the  silent  moonbeams, 
Beauty  abideth  and  charmeth  the  eyes  of  mortals. 
Here  shall  ye  who  behold  her  yield  her  homage! 
Here  she  reigneth,  alone,  supreme,  and  holy! 
Here  her  rites  shall  be  held  forever  sacred! 
Worship  God  as  ye  will,  but  this  remember, 
God  is  Beauty,  and  Beauty  filleth  heaven. 
Now  shall  heaven  attest  the  strength  of  Beauty! 

\¥he  music  ceases  abruptly ,  and  the  GREEN  KNIGHT, 
raising  his  hands  on  high,  cries  an  invocation. 

Hear  me,  Jesu,  son  of  God,  whose  voice  is  mercy  and 
whose  heart  is  love!  Our  Lady,  hear!  Angels  of  heaven, 
throw  wide  the  gates  of  gold  and  let  the  light  of  Paradise 
descend ! 

[Above  the  hillside,  the  gates  of  Paradise  open  in  a 

flood  of  golden  light  that  illumines  the  heavens. 

^he  music  resumes  at  the  same  moment,  and 

from  the  gleaming  gates  an  ANGEL  sounds  a 

trumpet  blast — the  Beauty  theme.     The  celestial 

light  continues  while  the  GREEN  KNIGHT  slowly 

ascends   the    hill,   pausing   many    times    with 

gestures  of  exalted  adoration.     His  ascent  is 

accompanied  by    music   into   which   enter  the 

Beauty  theme,  the  Green  Knight  theme  and  the 

2O2 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

music  of  the  forest  at  night.  When  he  ap- 
proaches the  radiant  gates  >  a  culminating  ex- 
pression  of  the  Beauty  theme  is  heard;  the 
ANGEL  takes  him  by  the  hand  and,  together ', 
they  enter  Paradise.  'The  GREEN  KNIGHT 
raises  his  hands  in  a  final  gesture  of  exaltation ; 
the  gates  close;  the  music  ends  triumphantly; 
and  all  is  dark  and  silent. 


[203] 


NOTE  ON  THE   MUSIC 

BY  EDWARD  G.  STRICKLEN 

THE  PRELUDE  is  built  in  the  main  upon  themes  related 
to  the  action,  which  will  be  illustrated  in  their  proper 
places.  It  begins  with  a  series  of  arpeggios  intended  to 
express  the  music  of  the  cithara  that  is  played  by  the 
speaker  of  the  prologue  (Neotios).  Thus  introduced,  and 
the  prologist  having  left  the  scene,  the  Prelude  continues 
upon  a  theme  indicative  of  the  forest  at  night.  This  is 
scored  at  first  for  divided  violins  alone: 


The  theme  is  developed  for  a  few  measures  by  imita- 
tions on  one  instrument  after  another  until  all  cease  on  a 
forte.  A  florid  passage  assigned  to  a  single  'cello  intro- 
duces the  Green  Knight  theme  which  is  played  at  first  in 
a  cantabile  by  the  'cellos  and  then  by  the  other  strings: 

[205] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


I        ,  n ;-',L -,niJ';.i'         i  r 

t-    -»j<  f  ;    "Vf    t"    f"  "   ^ 


A  portion  of  the  Dance  of  the  Elves  is  next  introduced. 
This  is  built  upon  the  following  theme: 


Into  this  the  Black  Knight  or  Care  theme  enters: 


•MM' 


When  the  Dance  of  the  Elves  occurs  in  the  action,  the 
Care  theme  enters  under  the  dance  melody  and  is  repeated 
at  intervals  preparatory  to  the  entrance  of  the  Black 
Knight. 

The  remainder  of  the  Prelude  consists  of  a  foreshadow- 
ing of  the  Conflict  Music  which  will  be  illustrated  where 
it  occurs  in  the  action,  followed  by  the  Green  Knight 
theme  in  triumphant  form,  indicative  of  the  Green 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

Knight's  victory  over  Care,  and  finally  by  a  repetition  of 
the  quiet  measures  expressive  of  the  forest  at  night  with 
which  the  Prelude  began. 

The  Prelude — intended  to  intensify  the  atmosphere  of 
mystery  suggested  by  the  prologue  in  which  the  auditors 
are  bidden  by  Neotios  to  dream — is,  as  it  were,  a  prelude 
to  a  dream.  It  ends  when  the  Elf-King  theme  is  intro- 
duced and  the  Elf-King  makes  his  appearance: 


As  the  light  of  the  rising  moon  illumines  the  scene  the 
Moon  theme  is  heard.  The  Elf-King's  address  to  the 
moon  is  built  upon  this  theme: 

ILLUSTRATION  i 


c 

) 

./w 

J     *   . 

X* 

-j  ; 

ivnoxc-c 

w 

JU** 

1  —  ^~7 

s 

^*     } 

* 

4 

^ 

!  f  H 

; 

'  1>  lA'fr  ' 

—^- 

^  ^^  r 

& 

[207] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


Di    1- 


'Vwuati/uca 


fcs 


m 

US 


'rVuJ        tr*t 
y '  M     t  j^ 


r     ^rr 


^ 


•P« 


LLJ 


ILLUSTRATION  2 


, 


[2o8] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

T=^4c 


ILLUSTRATION  3 


The  Moonbeams  enter  during  the  latter  part  of  the 
Elf-King's  speech.  A  few  measures  of  transitional  ma- 
terial are  introduced  while  the  Moonbeams  rise,  and  the 
Dance  of  the  Moonbeams  begins.  The  first  figure,  built 
upon  the  Moon  theme  changed  to  3-4  rhythm,  is  as  follows: 

[209] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


m 


P=  =* 


±* 


»    ij 

jf  r  j  &  f-  4t*ra  t^ 


I 


H* 

A  second  figure  is  introduced  in  this  form: 


1 


im| 


*** 


b&       __ 


i 


*s 


** 


r 

The  Elf-King  speaks  on  the  closing  measures  of  the 
dance  and  as  he  calls  to  the  elves  and  goblins  the  fairy  folk 
come  scampering  down  the  hillside  to  the  accompaniment 
of  the  following: 


•tiiTtfm 


iti 


i 


C     ft 


[210] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 


This  changes  to  the  Dance  of  the  Elves,  which  has 
already  been  illustrated,  toward  the  end  of  which  the  Care 
theme  enters  and  is  repeated  until  the  Black  Knight  ap- 
pears. The  Care  theme  is  then  given  with  the  full  strength 
of  the  orchestra  and  the  music  ceases. 

An  episode  of  action  ensues  unaccompanied  by  music. 
The  Black  Knight  finally  commands  the  dwarf,  Madolor, 
to  bring  in  the  captives.  As  these  enter,  garbed  in  "shabby 
coats  of  sombre  hues"  and  walking  with  bowed  heads, 
they  present  a  melancholy  spectacle.  The  music  accom- 
panying their  entrance  is  lugubrious  in  character  and 
parallels  in  a  gradual  crescendo  the  effect  upon  the  eye  of 
the  gradual  filling  of  the  scene.  This  is  written  with  a 
double  time  signature  (5-4  3-4)  and  begins  as  follows: 


A  second  figure  is  introduced.  This  is  derived  from  the 
Care  theme  and  is  the  principal  basis  of  the  following 
illustration: 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

The  action  now  continues  for  a  time  without  music. 
Finally  the  Prince — racked  by  anguish  and  terror  induced 
by  the  malignity  of  the  Black  Knight  and  Madolor — is 
left  alone  in  the  awful  stillness  of  the  forest.  Throwing 
himself  on  the  ground  he  gives  course  to  his  tears,  and  the 
orchestra  begins  an  interlude  expressive  of  his  despair. 
This  is  assigned  chiefly  to  the  harp,  assisted  by  muted 
strings.  Its  principal  theme  is  as  follows: 


A  second  figure  is  introduced  in  this  form: 


While  this  is  being  played  the  Elf-King  enters  with  the 
elves  and  goblins,  and,  the  music  merging  into  the  Dance 
of  the  Elves,  the  fairy  folk  dance  about  as  before.  The 
Elf-King  presently  stops  the  dance  and  the  music  ceases. 

The  Elf-King  now  speaks  to  the  Prince.  During  this 
speech  a  succession  of  tympani  beats  suggestive  of  ap- 
proaching steps  is  heard.  The  Elf- King,  pausing,  says: 

[212] 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 

But  hark!  the  wind  no  longer  sighs; 
Across  the  solemn  night  I  hear 
A  sound  that  to  thy  mortal  ear 
May  whisper  of  a  step  that  wends 
Thro'  forest  ways. 

What  mystery  is  nigh  ?  It  seems 
As  if  from  out  the  gate  of  dreams 
Some  spirit  wanders  thro'  the  wood. 

The  spiritual  suggestion  of  these  lines  is  expressed  mu- 
sically by  the  Green  Knight  theme  in  the  following  form 

(yUWvo' 


This  is  continued  until  the  Elf-King  and  the  Prince 
leave  the  scene  whereupon  the  Green  Knight  theme  is 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

sounded  by  the  brasses  and  the  Green  Knight  appears  on 
the  upper  hillside.  As  he  rides  down  the  winding  path  the 
orchestra  plays  the  music  of  the  Green  Knight  in  extended 
form,  as  heard  in  the  latter  part  of  the  Prelude. 

The  Green  Knight  and  the  Black  Knight  join  in  com- 
bat in  a  neighboring  glen.  The  Prince  and  the  captives 
reenter.  Archolon,  the  priest,  calls  upon  them  to  pray. 
They  kneel  and  the  prayer  is  expressed  entirely  by  the 
orchestra.  It  is  composed  in  the  form  of  a  chorale.  The 
first  strophe  begins  as  follows: 


, 

t  r  f 

^  -y 


«J 


d    ° 


rt 


TT 


At  the  end  of  the  first  strophe  a  clash  of  arms  is  heard 
and  the  orchestra  plays  the  Conflict  Music,  utilizing  the 
Care  theme.  The  following  illustration  arranged  for  piano 
will  suggest  the  character  of  the  passage: 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 


After  the  second  strophe  of  the  prayer  the  Conflict 
Music  is  made  to  carry  the  Green  Knight  theme: 


Variations  of  this  treatment  occur  until  the  prayer  is 
ended  and  the  Green  Knight  rides  in  upon  the  announce- 
ment of  his  theme  by  a  trumpet. 

The  action  continues  without  music  until  a  horn  call 
from  the  hill  announces  the  approach  of  the  King,  who 
presently  appears  with  his  followers  on  the  upper  hillside. 
As  they  ride  down  the  winding  path  the  orchestra  plays 
the  King's  March,  of  which  the  principal  theme  is  as  fol- 
lows: 


m 


I  Mti  { 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
This  is  interrupted  momentarily  by  a  cantabile  passage: 


The  march  is  again  played  in  diminished  form  as  the 
King  and  the  other  characters  finally  leave  the  scene. 
After  this  the  Green  Knight  delivers  his  last  speech — an 
apostrophe  to  Beauty.  This  progresses  for  some  time 
unaccompanied,  but  when  he  utters  the  lines, 

Beauty  soareth  upon  the  wings  of  music, 
Calling  harmonies  from  the  lute  and  viol, 

the  orchestra  begins  softly  with  an  announcement  of  the 
Beauty  theme,  simplified  from  the  full  expression  in  which 
it  appears  later.  This  simplified  treatment  of  the  theme 
is  as  follows: 


r    )  \£,\-    -f 


With  this  the  finale  begins  and  proceeds  with  the  de- 
velopment of  the  Beauty  theme  imitated  in  stretto: 


THE  GREEN  KNIGHT 


As  a  counterpoint  to  this  the  music  of  the  forest  at 
night,  transposed  to  the  key  of  C  major,  is  employed: 


onto 


*l 


This  accompanies  the  latter  part  of  the  Green  Knight's 
speech  which  is  spoken  with  constantly  increasing  exalta- 
tion— paralleled  by  the  music — until  the  concluding  line, 
Now  shall  heaven  attest  the  strength  of  Beauty. 

At  this  point  the  music  stops  abruptly  and  the  Green 
Knight  calls  upon  the  angels  of  heaven  to  "throw  wide 
the  gates  of  gold  and  let  the  light  of  Paradise  descend!" 
To  borrow  from  Mr.  Garnett's  stage  directions:  "Above 
the  hillside,  the  gates  of  Paradise  open  in  a  flood  of  golden 
light  that  illumines  the  heavens.  The  music  is  resumed 
at  the  same  moment,  and  from  the  gleaming  gates  an 
angel  sounds  a  trumpet  blast — the  Beauty  theme.  The 
celestial  light  continues  while  the  Green  Knight  slowly 
ascends  the  hill,  pausing  many  times  with  gestures  of 
exalted  adoration."  His  ascent  is  accompanied  by  the 
Green  Knight  motive  in  extended  form  until  he  ap- 
proaches the  gates  of  heaven.  The  final  and  full  expres- 
sion of  the  Beauty  theme  now  enters.  It  is  in  part  as 
follows : 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

1?Wa;fctt>.c'<Yvu>£fr' 


I 


\Hr 

p 


* 


m 


r 
tit 


. 


I 


m 


.7»T~7 

This  accompanies  him  until  having  stepped  within  the 
gates  of  Paradise  they  close  upon  him  and  the  music 
ceases  as  darkness  falls. 


[218] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

PAN    AND    ORION 


THE  TENTH  GROVE  PLAY 

r        PERFORMED  ON  THE  TENTH  NIGHT  OF  AUGUST,  1912 
[REPEATED  ON  THE  TWENTY-FOURTH  NIGHT  OF  AUGUST,  1912 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 


BY 

JOSEPH  D.  REDDING 

WITH  A  NOTE  ON  THE  MUSIC 
BY  THE  COMPOSER 

HENRY  HADLEY 


JOSEPH  D.  REDDING 
SIRE 


ARGUMENT 

FN,  Arcadian  deity  of  pastoral  life,  born  a  perfect  child, 
misused  his  trust,  causing  the  flocks  and  herds  under 
his  charge  to  fight  with  one  another,  with  the  result  that  he 
discovers  that  he  himself  has  become  deformed.  He  would 
do  penance ;  he  would  bring  harmony  out  of  discord.  Little 
Zephyrus,  youngest  son  of  Astraeus,  father  of  the  Winds, 
and  of  Eos,  has  been  held  by  his  mother  in  innocence  and 
purity.  He  and  Pan  become  fast  friends,  and  upon  the  dis- 
closing to  Pan  by  Eos,  of  her  intention  to  leave  her  home 
with  the  boy  in  order  that  he  may  not  know  the  cruelty  of 
life,  Pan  agrees  to  conduct  them  to  Arcadia. 

Astraeus,  discovering  their  flight,  calls  in  rage  upon  his 
harpies  and  sends  them  forth  in  the  height  of  the  storm  to 
recover  his  wife  and  son. 

Ten  years  elapse,  and  the  scene  is  transferred  to  the 
shrinerof  Diana  in  Arcadia.  The  quiet  of  the  vale  is  rudely 
broken  into  by  Orion  and  a  party  of  his  hunters.  They 
discover  Pan  asleep  in  the  sun  at  the  base  of  the  statue  of 
Diana.  Awakened,  he  rails  at  the  intruders,  invokes  the 
magic  of  Diana's  charmed  well,  induces  them  to  drink,  in- 
toxicates them  and  drives  them  from  the  sacred  spot,  reel- 
ing and  turning  to  the  mad  music  of  his  pipes.  Night  falls, 
and  nymphs  timidly  appear  in  the  moonlight;  they  gather 
courage  and,  after  a  series  of  dances  and  floral  figures, 
bring  in  Chloris  whom  they  crown  as  Flora,  Goddess 
Bountiful. 

Pan  returns  with  Zephyrus,  now  grown  to  manhood,  and 
discloses  to  him  the  beauty  of  the  scene.  The  youth  is  en- 
chanted with  Flora  and  discloses  his  passion  to  her,  while 

[221] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

the  nymphs  daintily  retreat  into  the  bowers.  Their  love 
scene  is  interrupted  by  the  return  of  Orion,  in  brutal  mood. 
He  would  capture  Flora  for  himself.  Zephyrus  shields  her. 
Orion  makes  upon  him  with  uplifted  knife.  There  is  a  crash 
of  thunder;  the  arrow  flies  from  Diana's  bow  and  strikes 
Orion  through  the  heart;  he  falls  dead  at  the  foot  of  the 
statue.  The  hunters,  their  chorus  turned  to  a  dirge,  place 
the  body  of  Orion  upon  their  shoulders  and  disappear  into 
the  forest.  To  the  echo  of  their  dance  the  nymphs  return 
and  form  a  tableau  of  adoration  as  Zephyrus  leads  Flora 
from  the  scene. 

Pan  enters,  alone  in  the  moonlight,  and,  after  a  short 
soliloquy,  falls  asleep  at  the  base  of  the  statue,  the  theme  of 
Diana  floating  out  upon  the  evening  air. 

The  last  scene  returns  to  the  home  of  Astraeus,  who  is 
discovered  in  dejected  mood  in  front  of  his  cave.  His 
mighty  prowess  and  all  his  harpies'  efforts  have  been  with- 
out avail.  Some  higher  power  has  held  them  at  bay.  Eos 
is  discovered  far  up  the  mountain,  holding  by  either  hand 
Flora  and  Zephyrus,  Pan  completing  the  picture.  Eos 
explains  her  absence,  and  that  she  has  pledged  the  union  of 
the  twain ;  she  will  return  to  Astraeus  if  he  also  will  give 
consent  to  this  union.  The  Father  of  Destruction  confesses 
that  his  love  is  greater  than  his  hate ;  he  longs  for  his  wife's 
return;  he  gives  the  pledge;  the  processional  down  the 
mountain  ensues.  Astraeus  completes  the  union  between 
Flora  and  Zephyrus  and  leads  his  wife  back  to  their  home. 
All  eyes  are  turned  to  Pan.  He  thanks  the  gods  that  his 
prayer  has  been  answered.  Before  them  all  his  deformities 
disappear,  and,  amid  a  great  flood  of  light  which  illumi- 
nates the  forest,  he  stands  before  the  world  once  more, 
"the  perfect  child  create  at  birth." 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 


PAN 

ZEPHYRUS,  youngest  son  of  A  straws 
and  Eos.    (As  a  child} 

ZEPHYRUS  (As  a  youth} 
ASTR^EUS,  Father  of  the  Winds 
ORION,  a  demigod  and  mighty  hunter 

SILENUS,  companion  and  cup-bearer 
to  Orion 

NICOTHGE,  leader  of  the  harpies 
ACHOLGE,  a  harpy 

EOS  (afterwards  AURORA),  wife  of 
Astrceus  and  mother  of  Zephyrus 

CHLORIS  (afterwards  FLORA),  an 
Arcadian  nymph 


MR.  DAVID  BISPHAM 

MASTER  FRANCIS  NIELSON 
MR.  HAROLD  K.  BAXTER 
MR.  E.  MYRON  WOLF 
MR.  J.  WILSON  SHIELS 

MR.  HENRY  A.  MELVIN 
MR.  RANDAL  W.  BOROUGH 
MR.  HARRIS  C.  ALLEN 

*MR.  R.  M.  HOTALING 


MR.  JOHN  C.  DORNIN 
Harpies^  Nymphs  of  Diana,  Hunters ',  Fauns 

PLACE:     Ancient  Greece.     Act  I — Before   the  cave  of  Astraeus. 

Act  II— The  shrine  of  Diana  in  Arcadia.    Act  III— 

The  same  as  Act  I. 
TIME:    The  Age  of  Mythology.    Ten  years  are  supposed  to  elapse 

between  Act  I  and  Act  II. 


*At  the  second  performance,  on  August  24,  1912,  the  part  of  Eos  was  taken  by 
Mr.  Ralph  L.  Phelps. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Production  directed  by  MR.  FRANK  L.  MATHIEU. 

Setting  and  properties  designed  by  MR.  WILLIS  POLK,  MR.  CLARENCE 
WARD,  MR.  HAIG  PATIGIAN  and  MR.  M.  EARL  CUMMINGS  and  execut- 
ed by  MR.  GEORGE  E.  LYON. 

Dances  devised  and  directed  by  MR.  GEORGE  B.  DE  LONG  and  MR. 
RANDAL  W.  BOROUGH. 

Lighting  by  MR.  EDWARD  J.  DUFFEY. 

•     • 

Musical  Director,  MR.  HENRY  HADLEY. 
Chorus  Master,  MR.  JOHN  DE  P.  TELLER. 


[224] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF   PAN 

^4  Music-Drama 
PROLOGUE 

A  dense  thicket  at  the  foot  of  a  wooded  hillside.    It  is  early 
morning. 

[The  sound  of  pipes  is  heard  in  the  distance  and  PAN 
is  seen  coming  down  the  hillside,  disappearing 
and  reappearing.  He  finally  emerges  from  the 
thicket. 

PAN 

Ye  mortals  who  have  beauty  in  your  form. 
With  grace  of  limb,  who  maze  a  misshaped  thing 
Like  me  should  sport  within  this  grove,  give  heed ! 

Penelope  my  mother  was,  and  great 
Ulysses  was  my  sire,  although  there  were 
Of  suitors  for  her  hand  an  hundred  more — 
Deities  who,  enraptured  by  her  beauty, 
With  ardor  strove  to  lure  her  from  her  tryst, 
While  she  in  sorrow  waited  on  his  love. 

In  passion's  mold  and  with  such  mortar  made 
Was  I  create,  a  perfect  child  at  birth; 
In  fairest  stature  formed,  and  of  such  strength 
As  ne'er  was  equalled  in  a  union  joined 
Among  the  gods.    My  mother  fled  in  fear 

[225] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

The  accusation  might  be  brought  that  she 
Had  husbanded  an  hundred  secret  lusts 
With  which  forsooth  to  conjure  up  a  child 
Whose  form  should  bear  the  beauty  of  them  all. 

Hermes  to  high  Olympus  with  me  fled, 
Where  I  became  the  favorite  of  the  gods, 
And  as  a  special  privilege  was  I  called 
To  rule  in  fair  Arcadia.    This  my  trust: 
To  hold  dominion  over  all  the  trees, 
The  grottoes,  flocks  and  herds ;  to  wake  my  muse 
And  call  to  mate  all  living  things,  on  bough, 
In  field  or  forest  shade,  and  bid  to  live 
Arcadia's  guild  in  love  and  sweet  content. 

Had  I  obeyed  the  trust  to  me  conveyed, 

These  gnarled  limbs  you  see  and  twisted  horns, 

This  gargoyle  snout,  my  all  the  very  scraps 

From  out  a  butcher's  heap,  would  ne'er  have  been. 

Beauteous  Apollo,  jealous  of  my  form, 

And  all  the  lesser  gods,  but  sought  the  chance 

Some  punishment  upon  me  to  inflict. 

Fool  that  I  was,  I  reckoned  not  the  cost 

Of  every  knavish  prank  I  sought  to  play, 

With  petty  cruelties  and  tortures  fine; 

Using  for  my  sport  the  unanswering  kine, 
The  herd,  the  velvet  deer  with  trusting  eye; 
When,  lo !  upon  my  vicious  brain  there  broke 
A  fearful  truth:   I  saw  the  very  tree, — 
'Neath  which,  with  locked  horns,  two  noble  stags, 
Egged  on  by  me,  had  fought  unto  the  death,— 
This  very  tree,  in  protest  groaned  and  hung 
Its  stricken  head;  its  limbs  began  to  shrink; 

Its  rugged  bark  before  my  eyes  fell  off, 
Exposed  its  bleeding  heart,  which,  with  one  sigh, 
Gave  way.    The  noble  tree  had  died  from  grief! 

[226] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

I  fled  the  scene  and  bathed  my  startled  brain 
In  cooling  stream,  when,  mirrored  to  me  there, 
Was  shown  the  shattered  being  you  behold. 

This  is  my  punishment  and  this  the  fate 
Of  all  who  others  hurt  by  thought  or  deed 
In  fair  Arcadia. 

Nature  pays  her  dues. 
The  total  sums,  in  perfect  balance  kept, 
Are  written  down  upon  the  book  of  time; 
And  he  who  thinks  the  reckoning  to  avoid, 
As  youth  is  wont,  or  flippantly  makes  sport 
That  he  may  laugh  while  others  suffer  pain, 
Be  they  gods,  or  men,  or  simple  beasts  afield, 
Is  greater  fool  than  I. 

Yet  I  'm  not  sad ; 

Music  is  vouchsafed  me,  and  on  these  pipes 
I  carol  to  the  birds,  who  answer  back 
In  kindred  melody.    With  these  I  charm 
Distempers  rife  from  out  the  blood-eyed  bull 
And  bring  the  squirrel  from  his  hole,  and  cause 
All  living  things,  still  in  my  charge,  to  hold 
Their  peace  and  dwell  in  harmony. 

Give  heed ! 

One  other  gift,  ordained  to  me,  I  have: 
The  gift  of  prophecy  is  mine.    Within 
This  wondrous  grove  to-day  there  is  a  spell 
Charging  the  air  with  omens,  mystic  signs, 
Foretokens  that  some  mighty  deed  shall  here 
Unfold  the  vasty  projects  of  the  gods. 

O  forest  trees!    In  majesty  and  form 

Ye  lift  your  noble  heads,  while  I,  poor  dwarf, 

Misshapen  for  my  base-inflicted  crime, 

May  strive  to  keep  my  faith  with  ye  as  hostage ; 

A  broken  promise  which  I  may  redeem. 

[227] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

(singing) 

Could  I  but  lead  within  this  scene 
A  youth  of  godly  origin ; 
Untaught  in  guile,  with  faith  to  feel 
The  truth  the  deities  here  reveal, — 

A  youth  bestowed  by  mother  love 
As  tender  hostage  to  this  grove, — 
I  'd  be  his  slave,  his  faithful  Pan, 
His  dog,  his  vassal,  serving  man. 

I  'd  lay  his  bed  of  maid's-hair  fern 
All  canopied  with  golden  kern ; 
And  play  him  drowsily  to  sleep, 
While  jack-o'-lanterns  vigil  keep. 

From  out  Diana's  virgin  train 
I'd  find  a  mate  and  bid  the  twain 
Their  love  to  Hymen  dedicate, 
A  union  pure,  inviolate: 

And  thus  I  'd  pay  the  penalty 
Of  all  my  foolish  deviltry. 

But  soft!    I  see  where  Cynthia  peeps 
That  Father  Time  in  harvest  reaps 
Another  night  into  his  sheaf, 
While  ominous  calm  stirs  not  a  leaf. 

Anon,  good  trees,  I  hope  to  prove 
As  well  my  prowess  as  my  love. 
Stand  as  of  old,  ye  Noble  Ban, 
For  I  am  still  your  faithful  Pan. 


ACT  I 

PAN  resumes  playing  upon  bis  pipes.  As  he  turns  and 
faces  the  thicket  through  which  he  came,  it  disappears  and 
discloses  an  open  glade  from  which  the  hillside  rises.  The 
light  increases.  The  morning  sun  discovers  ZEPHYRUS  on 
the  lower  hillside.  He  is  a  fair-haired  boy  of  eight  or  nine 
years  of  age.  PAN'S  music  stops  abruptly. 

\^A  butterfly  attracts  the  attention  of  ZEPHYRUS  who 
rises  and  chases  it.  The  butterfly  escapes  and 
ZEPHYRUS,  kneeling  down,  makes  an  apron  of 
his  tunic  and  fills  it  with  flowers. 

PAN  (aside) 
Youth  and  innocence!  I  would  not  frighten  him. 

\He  turns  partly  away,  but  cannot  keep  his  eyes  from 
the  boy.  ZEPHYRUS  again  chases  the  butterfly — 
dropping  some  of  his  flowers.  Now,  seeing  PAN, 
he  stops  and  smiles  innocently. 

ZEPHYRUS  (simply) 
Good  morrow,  great  god  Pan ! 

PAN 

Thou  knowest  me,  child  ? 

ZEPHYRUS 

Indeed  it  must  be  thou  and  no  one  else; 
Eos,  my  mother,  often  hath  described  thee. 

[229] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Thou  art  the  first  strange  god  my  eyes  have  seen ; 
I  only  know  my  elder  brothers  three. 

PAN 

And  thou  dost  not  fear  me  ? 

ZEPHYRUS  (singing) 

I  know  not  fear; 

I  have  been  taught  to  love  the  world. 

When  spring  is  come, 

I  gather  flowers  in  the  field, 

And  these  I  bring 

To  make  a  garland  for  her  hair, 

My  mother,  Eos,  divine  and  fair. 

(taking  PAN  by  the  hand) 
Come,  sing  with  me, 

0  happy  day. 

1  '11  twine  for  thee  a  wreath  of  bay, 
O  master  of  the  woodland  clan, 
For  art  thou  not  the  great  god  Pan  ? 

[ZEPHYRUS  holds  out  a  wreath  to  PAN, 

PAN  (aside) 
The  power  of  faith  transcends  the  power  of  the  gods. 

[He  turns  and  bends  before  ZEPHYRUS. 

PAN  (singing) 
I  '11  sing  with  thee. 

ZEPHYRUS  (singing) 
Come,  sing  with  me. 

PAN 

O  happy  day! 

[230] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

ZEPHYRUS 
O  happy  day! 

PAN 

I*  11  wear  for  thee, 

ZEPHYRUS 
F 11  twine  for  thee, 

PAN 

A  wreath  of  bay, 

ZEPHYRUS 
A  wreath  of  bay, 

PAN 

As  master  of  the  woodland  clan. 

ZEPHYRUS 

0  master  of  the  woodland  clan! 

PAN 

t 

1  am  thy  slave,  the  great  god  Pan. 

ZEPHYRUS 

For  art  thou  not  the  great  god  Pan  ? 
[PAN  kneels  and  ZEPHYRUS  places  the  wreath  on  his 
head. 

PAN 

(rising  and  raising  his  hand  to  heaven) 

Eros,  god  of  love, 

Protect  this  child  against  the  world. 

[ZEPHYRUS  once  again  pursues  a  butterfly,  then  faces 
PAN,  looking  at  him  intently. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
ZEPHYRUS 

Thou  hast  a  troubled  look  upon  thy  face; 

Upon  my  mother's,  oft  I  see  the  same. 

Is  that  the  mark  of  age,  when  youth  is  gone  ? 

PAN 

Tut,  tut,  my  child ;  we  gods  are  never  old. 
Come,  show  me  where  your  choicest  flowers  grow. 

ZEPHYRUS 
Indeed,  I  shall.    I  know  them  every  one. 

[PAN  and  ZEPHYRUS  go  toward  the  hill  hand  in  hand. 
ZEPHYRUS  kneels  and  offers  flowers  to  PAN, 
showing  confidence  and  pleasure.  Eos  is  seen 
coming  stealthily  out  of  a  cave  on  the  hillside. 
She  looks  around  and  into  the  forest  cautiously. 

Eos  (whispering) 
Zephyrus ! 

\She  steps  farther  down  from  cave. 

ZEPHYRUS 

[ZEPHYRUS  hears  her>  lifts  his  head  and  runs  up  the 
hill  toward  her. 

ZEPHYRUS 
Mother! 

[Eos  and  ZEPHYRUS  embrace. 
Eos 

My  darling  boy!    Thou  must  not  run  alone. 

Did  I  not  voices  hear  without  the  cave  ? 

Which  of  thy  brothers  hath  been  counseling  thee  ? 

ZEPHYRUS  (pointing) 
Nay,  nay,  look  there!     It  is  the  great  god  Pan. 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

Eos  (putting  ZEPHYRUS  behind  her) 

Pan !    Thou  clown  of  the  gods  and  god  of  clowns, 
What  wouldst  thou  there  below  ?    Can  I  not  hold 
My  youngest  son  unblemished  from  the  world  ? 
Must  he,  too,  tread  the  path  of  all  the  rest, 
The  sap  of  his  young  life  to  wormwood  turned, 
His  appetite  upon  destruction  bent  ? 
Great  Zeus,  I've  sworn  an  oath  it  shall  not  be! 

[She  shields  ZEPHYRUS  in  her  embrace. 

PAN 

Hear  me,  thou  fulgent  star  of  mother-kind. 

Whip  me  with  thy  tongue;  it  is  my  due. 

The  heavy  debt  I  owe  is  still  unpaid; 

I  am  accustomed  to  its  usury. 

Yet  bear  with  me  a  little. 

Great  Gaea's  fool  I  am,  but,  like  all  fools, 

My  mirth  is  ever  on  the  brink  of  grief, 

If  gods  or  mortals  dared  divest  their  souls, 

Our  tears  would  drown  the  world ;  the  briny  deep 

Would  top  the  spaceless  suns  and  quench  their  fires, — 

And  so  we  wear  the  mask  and  do  dissemble. 

Before  Eos,  I  stand  to  speak  the  truth; 

There  in  yon  cave  I  know  Astraeus  dwells, — 

Father  of  destruction ;  who,  with  his  sons, 

Hath  sought  repeated  times  to  blast  these  trees. 

Against  them  have  been  hurled  the  howling  winds, 

Until  the  very  rocks  were  split  in  twain. 

And  yet,  behold!    These  titan  shafts  remain 

Untarnished  by  the  brunt  of  their  assault, 

Unsullied  as  Diana  and  her  nymphs. 

Come  close,  Eos, — 

To  thee  I  shall  unfold  a  mystery. 

[Eos  approaches,  still  shielding  ZEPHYRUS. 

[233] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Thou  knowest  the  wizardry  at  my  command, 
How  on  these  pipes  I  play,  and  bid  mankind 
And  deities  themselves  to  do  my  will, 
Or  turn  their  steps  from  war  to  revelry, 
Or  lead  them  nimble- footed  in  the  dance, 
Or  call  them  back  again  to  clash  of  arms; 
Puppets,  all,  to  the  music  of  my  reeds. 

Some  power  hath  restrained  my  churlish  heart 
Within  this  grove,  and  curbed  my  fantasy. 
The  tawny  bruin  tearing  at  the  roots 
Gave  pause  to  prick  his  ear  upon  the  strain 
And  amble  off,  his  belly  partly  filled. 
In  shadow  cloaked  I  bade  thine  eldest  sons, 
Commanded  by  Astraeus,  launch  their  thunder, 
Striving  to  rend  these  giant  trunks, — when,  lo! 
My  syrinx  filched  the  courage  from  their  hearts 
And  held  them  thralled  in  music's  dalliance. 
What  higher  destiny,  what  guiding  hand, 
Bridled  my  wanton  sport,  I  never  knew, 
Until  this  morn  I  spied  thy  youngest  son, 
So  pure,  so  innocent,  so  undefiled. 
His  presence  is  a  message  from  the  gods, 
And  I  have  sworn  an  oath  to  be  his  slave. 

Eos 
Unhappy,  Pan,  I  do  believe  thine  oath. 

(releasing  ZEPHYRUS) 
Zephyrus,  run  and  play  thou  in  the  sun; 
But  not  beyond  the  calling  of  my  voice. 
Pan,  I  have  vowed  no  longer  shall  I  brook 
The  horrors  of  yon  pestilential  cave. 
Within,  the  feeble  shadows  of  the  day 
Inscribe  their  epitaphs  upon  the  walls. 
Corrosion  thrives  and  feeds  upon  itself 

[234] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

In  cancerous  gluttony.    The  fungus  eaves 
With  mildew  drip,  and  stain  the  cavern's  mouth. 
From  thence  my  elder  sons,  armed  head  to  foot, 
In  death  and  devastation  roam  the  world. 
From  out  my  tired  heart  the  one  last  drop 
Of  love  now  courses  through  Zephyrus'  veins. 
Naught  knows  he  of  his  brothers'  stormy  life, 
His  father's  crimes  and  dreaded  cruelties, 
For  I  have  held  him  close  within  my  breast. 
But  now  the  time  has  come;  he  questions  me 
And  knowledge  seeks — the  curse  of  gods  and  men, 
I  must  away  with  him  or  blast  my  soul 
With  more  deception,  lies  and  counterfeits. 

PAN  (aside) 

Ye  powers  omnipotent!    My  prayer  is  heard! 
Now  shall  a  fool  find  opportunity 
To  pay  the  debt  of  all  his  knavery. 

(turning  to  Eos) 

Come,  let  me  be  thy  guide ;  I  know  the  way. 
Together  we  will  lead  the  boy  through  vale 
And  dell;  the  verdant  turf  beneath  his  feet, 
The  spreading  oak  to  shield  him  from  the  sun ; 
The  echo  of  his  laughter  he  will  hear 
Playing  hide-and-seek  in  the  rippling  stream, 
Amid  the  scented  ferns  and  mossy  banks. 
The  years  will  fly  like  swallows  in  the  wind 
And  we  shall  bring  him  to  Arcadia, 
There  to  invoke  the  blessings  of  Diana, 
Chaste  Artemis,  protectress  of  the  young. 

Eos  (aside) 

Thou  mother-hearted,  virgin-limbed  Diana! 
The  wisdom  of  thy  words  renews  my  hopes ; 

[235] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

At  once  I  will  obey.    Zephyrus!    Whist! 

[ZEPHYRUS  comes  to  her  running. 

Give  me  thy  hand,  the  other  unto  Pan ; 
Together  we  shall  wander  through  the  woods. 

ZEPHYRUS 

I  knew  that  thou  wouldst  love  the  great  god  Pan. 

\Hand  in  hand,  all  three  slowly  ascend  the  roadway, 
PAN  and  ZEPHYRUS  singing  as  before,  "Pit  sing 
with  thee.  Come,  sing  with  me,"  etc.  Darkness 
falls.  Wind  among  the  trees  and  rumblings  of 
thunder  are  heard  and  flashes  of  lightning  are 
seen  in  the  distance.  The  cave  on  the  hillside  is 
luminously  disclosed,  and  the  towering  figure  of 
ASTR^EUS  is  revealed  at  the  entrance.  The 
rumblings  of  the  approaching  storm,  somewhat 
subdued,  are  suggested  in  the  music. 

ASTR^US 

What  do  our  eyes  behold  ?    This  mighty  grove 

Unscathed  by  all  our  forces !    Father  Crius ! 

And  mighty  Zeus !    These  trees  have  dared  to  stand 

Thrice  o'er  a  thousand  years.    O  sons  of  mine, 

When  next  on  great  Olympus  heights  our  scroll 

Is  read  before  the  council  of  the  gods, 

Must  this  grey  head  be  bowed  with  shameful  grief? 

Must  our  defeat  be  bared  and  we  confess 

That  other  gods  there  be,  who  in  their  strength 

A  temple  here  have  built  that  all  our  seed 

Hath  fought  in  vain  ?    No,  by  my  father,  no ! 

Through  all  the  earth  our  strength  hath  done  its  will. 

O  mighty  Gaea !    What  primeval  sin, 

Herein  committed  by  our  father's  father, 

Brings  this  defeat  ?    Must  we  hereafter  take 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

Our  seat  within  the  council's  lower  end, 
To  be  the  table's  butt,  flouted  and  dubbed 
The  impotent  sire  of  puny  worthless  kin  ? 
Hear  us,  all  ye  titans  of  earth  and  sea! 
Mighty  Hecate,  hear !    Zephyrus  we  have, 
Our  youngest  son.    His  untried  prowess  still 
Awaits  the  test;  but  when  his  mother,  Eos, 
Was  happy  in  her  weight,  by  signs  propitious 
His  birthright  was  announced.    Brave  Hercules, 
And  Vulcan,  too,  stood  sponsor  for  his  strength. 
Great  Jupiter  himself  gave  us  the  pledge 
That  whatsoe'er  Zephyrus  might  demand 
Forthwith  should  be  fulfilled.    Of  all  our  sons, 
Zephyrus,  best  beloved,  stand  thou  forth!  .  .  . 

[ffbere  is  no  response. 
Stand  forth,  we  say!  .  .  . 

[Still  no  response. 

Zephyrus!  .  .  . 

[Silence. 

ASTR^EUS  (in  a  rage) 

What!    Disobedience  running  riot,  too? 
Then,  by  the  shades  of  Pluto  and  the  fiends 
Around  him  congregate  in  hell,  we  call 
The  brood  of  Nicothoe  to  our  aid. 

[He  waves  his  wand  up  the  hill. 
Nicothoe!    Nicothoe!    Come  forth! 

[A  weird  and  terrible  scream  is  heard  and  the  Harpies ', 
twelve  in  number— gaunt,  bird-like  figures ,  with 
spreading  wings — rush  down  the  hillside.  "To 
the  accompaniment  of  dissonant  music  they  dance 
with  the  movements  of  flight,  and  finally,  in  one 
great  flutter,  fall  in  front  of  ASTR^SUS  with 
NICOTHOE,  near  where  ASTR^EUS  stands. 

[237] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

NICOTHOE  (in  an  uncanny  voice) 
Master,  to  do  thy  bidding,  we  are  come. 

ASTR^US 

Thrice  to  answer  have  we  Zephyrus  bid, 
And  thrice  the  echo  of  our  voice  hath  been 
The  sole  reply.    Tell  us,  where  is  the  boy. 
Ye  have  our  edict  to  patrol  the  air 
And  traverse  our  domain.    Ye  harpies,  speak! 

NICOTHOE 

Where  the  blotches  of  Uranus 
Smirch  the  sky; 
Where  the  stench  of  Pluto  rises 
There  we  fly. 

When  the  severed  head  of  Hydra 
Blood  distills, 

In  the  maggots  of  his  carcass 
Plunge  our  bills. 

From  our  perches  in  the  treetops 
Saw  we  Pan, 

With  him  Eos  and  Zephyrus ; 
Swift  they  ran. 

Sneering  Pan  is  our  Nemesis ; 

Him  we  hate. 

Give  us  our  commands,  Astraeus, 

We  await. 

\¥he  Harpies  partly  rise,  cackle  in  ghoulish  laughter, 

and  flutter   down    again.      Another   crash    of 

thunder  is  heard. 

ASTRAEUS  (in  rage) 

By  the  furies  of  hell,  we  are  undone ! 
Zephyrus  stolen  by  that  forest  fool, 

[238] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

And  Eos,  too,  seduced.    Great  Jupiter! 

Now  is  Olympus  turned  upside  down! 

Away;  go  forth,  ye  bastards  of  the  air; 

Circle  the  farthest  confines  of  the  globe ; 

Nor  rest  your  wings,  nor  foul  your  beaks  with  food 

Until  ye  bring  them  back,  my  wife  and  son. 

Go,  harpies,  go! 

NICOTHOE 
Master,  master,  we  fly! 

e  Harpies  rush  from  the  scene.  The  storm  rages 
more  fiercely .  Amid  the  crashes  of  thunder  and 
flashes  of  lightning,  ASTR^US,  after  imprecating 
the  heavens,  in  pantomime,  disappears  in  the  cave. 


INTERMEZZO 


ACT  II 

The  shrine  of  Diana  in  the  vale  of  Arcadia.  Ten  years 
have  elapsed.  It  is  high  afternoon  in  the  full  harvest  time  of 
the  year.  On  the  lower  part  of  the  hillside  which  rises  at  the 
back  of  the  scene  stands  a  marble  colonnade,  and,  on  the  level 
below ',  a  statue  of  Diana.  The  goddess  is  represented  holding 
a  drawn  bow  with  an  arrow  poised  as  if  to  be  let  loose  in 
flight.  At  one  side  is  the  well  of  Diana,  with  cups  and  flagons 
on  the  rim.  On  the  right  and  left  are  bowers  of  trellis-work 
that  suggest  the  existence  of  retreating  pathways  into  the  forest. 
The  scene  is  gay  with  a  profusion  of  flowers.  A  vigorous 
hunting  call  of  horns  is  heard  in  the  distance  and  gradually 
increases  in  volume.  PAN  is  discovered  asleep  at  the  base  ofy 
and  partly  hidden  behind  the  statue  of  Diana.  An  approach- 
ing chorus  of  Hunters  is  heard. 

HUNTERS  (singing  in  the  distance) 

In  the  dewy,  dewy  morn, 

To  the  echo  of  the  horn, 

We  hunt  at  the  break  of  day; 

Hark  away!    Hark  away!    Hark  away! 

[A  company  of  Hunters  enters,  singing. 

See  the  arrow  from  our  bow 
Lay  the  mighty  antler  low, 
There 's  none  can  our  skill  gainsay, 
Hark  away!    Hark  away!    Hark  away! 

In  the  quiet  of  the  night 

All  our  fancies  take  their  flight; 

[240] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

Our  cares  gently  fade  away. 

Fade  away — fade  away — fade  away. 

So  here 's  to  the  strife  of  a  hunter's  life 
From  the  plain  to  the  mountain  sheen ; 
And  here 's  to  the  thrill  of  a  good  day's  kill, 
With  a  toast  to  Dian,  our  queen! 
With  a  toast  to  Dian,  our  queen ! 

Hail!    Orion,  conqueror,  mightiest 
Hunter  of  us  all!    Hail!    Hail! 
[ORION  enters  under  an  arch  of  the  uplifted  spears  of 
the  Hunters. 

ORION 

Now  have  I  kept  my  word  and  brought  you  here 

Into  the  secret  vale  of  Artemis; 

This  is  the  very  paradise  of  nymphs. 

Surfeit  your  eyes  and  sip  the  honeyed  blooms 

Before  they  part  their  lips  to  th'  amorous  sun. 

Behold  this  rose  with  petals  carnadine: 

Some  passionate  naiad  hath  brushed  it  with  her  cheek. 

The  entwined  arms  of  yonder  vinery 

Do  haply  imitate  those  trysting  lovers 

Who  melted  here  their  souls  in  unison. 

The  air  is  plethoric  in  witchery. 

Alone  I  once  made  conquest  in  this  dell 

Of  one  who  Aphrodite's  charms  surpassed. 

That  was  a  wooing  fit  for  Mars  himself, 

And  would  have  won  applause  from  Hercules ! 

So  come,  your  girdles  loose,  and  rest  your  spears ; 

We  will  put  off  the  trappings  of  the  chase, 

And  let  our  arms  be  those  that  nature  gives 

Wherewith  to  bend  fair  maids  to  our  will. 

Now  is  the  harvest  time,  when  all  things  yield 

Their  juices,  and  fruition  waits  the  scythe. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

HUNTERS 
Hail,  mighty  Orion,  hail! 

\ffhe  Hunters  disperse ',  leaning  their  spears  and  clubs 
against  the  trees  and  bowers.  Whimsical  music 
is  heard  and  the  voice  of  SILENUS,  singing. 

SILENUS  (singing  in  the  distance) 

Oh,  ho,  ho,  ho;  go  fast,  go  slow, 
Have  a  drink  with  old  Silenus. 
Whoa,  Bucephalus,  whoa! 

[The  Hunters  burst  into  laughter  and  SILENUS  enters , 
riding  on  a  donkey. 

I  once  knew  a  fool  who  went  to  school, 
And  he  lived  on  moods  and  tenses. 
His  only  drink  was  a  bottle  of  ink, 
So  he  very  soon  lost  his  senses. 

(dismounting) 
Whoa,  Bucephalus,  whoa! 
The  older  we  grow  the  less  we  know 
Of  life  and  all  its  uses. 
It 's  only  the  drone  who  lives  on  a  bone 
And  the  flowing  bowl  refuses. 

Why  pickle  your  hide  when  you  have  died 
In  spices  and  good  liquor  ? 
Do  the  pickling  now,  is  my  daily  vow ; 
It 's  surer  and  much  quicker. 

So  bumpers  up,  fill  every  cup ; 
Have  a  drink  with  old  Silenus; 
We  '11  spend  our  nights  in  wild  delights, 
And  devil  a  care  between  us. 
[SILENUS  fills  the  Hunters'  goblets  from  his  pigskin. 

[242] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 
HUNTERS  (singing) 

So  bumpers  up,  fill  every  cup ; 
Have  a  drink  with  old  Silenus ; 
We  '11  spend  our  nights  in  wild  delights, 
And  devil  a  care  between  us. 

[Great  good  humor  prevails.  ORION  and  SILENUS 
drink  together,  and  the  Hunters  form  convivial 
groups.  SILENUS  discovers  PAN  asleep  on  a 
bench,  and  stares  at  him  with  hands  on  knees, 
his  mouth  wide  open  with  good-humored  aston- 
ishment. 

SILENUS 
By  my  starving  belly!    Whom  have  we  here? 

ORION 
'T  is  Pan,  the  forest  fool ;  he  seems  at  home. 

HUNTERS 
Pan! 

ORION  (approaching  PAN) 

Aye,  Pan;  I  know  him.    Thou  sluggard  awake; 
Or  art  thou  shamming?    Come,  awake,  I  say. 
Silenus,  fill  a  flagon  to  the  brim 
And  bid  the  mad  buffoon  to  quaff  with  us. 

[PAN  opens  his  eyes  and  springs  to  his  feet. 

PAN  (singing) 

Mighty  Gaea!    You  hairy  dogs,  you  mongrel  herd, 
How  dare  your  dungy  hoofs  befoul  this  sacred  spot  ? 
Stand  back!    Avaunt!    Away! 

HUNTERS  (singing,  in  derision) 
Ha,  ha!    Ha,  ha!    The  churlish  mountebank! 

[243] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

[SILENUS  runs  up  to  PAN,  offering  a  wine  cup.  PAN 
knocks  the  cup  from  bis  hand.  SILENUS  and  the 
Hunters  fall  back.  PAN  faces  the  crowd  in  anger. 

PAN 

Back  to  your  kennels, 
Vulgar  invaders. 
Dogs  from  the  mountains, 
Back,  back,  I  say! 

Hairy  intruders, 
Gory  and  reeking, 
Swine  of  the  jungle, 
A  vaunt!    Away! 

This  is  no  covey, 
Quarry,  or  bear  trap 
Baited  with  offal, 
Villainous  pests! 

Flee  ere  the  shaft  from 
The  bow  of  Diana, 
Shot  in  her  anger, 
Pierces  your  breasts. 

I  will  not  drink  ye, 
Not  with  Silenus; 
I  will  not  quaff  his 
Poisonous  rue. 

\He  dips  a  cup  in  the  well. 
Here  is  a  chalice 
Filled  with  the  rarest 
Nectar  from  Hebe's 
Elysian  brew. 

Fill  all  your  flagons, 
Pledge  in  this  vintage 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

To  Venus,  the  goddess 
Of  love  and  delight. 

Her  lips  have  pressed  it, 
Her  song  hath  blessed  it; 
Drink  deep  to  Venus, 
Queen  of  to-night. 

HUNTERS 
(rushing  to  well  and  filling  flagons) 

Drink  deep  to  Venus, 
Queen  of  to-night. 

PAN  (aside) 

Faithful  Diana, 
Come  to  my  rescue, 
Steep  all  their  senses 
In  Lethe's  spell; 

Baffle  their  prowess, 
Stifle  their  passions, 
Toss  them  to  Pluto, 
Writhing  in  hell. 

Drink  to  Aphrodite  fair, 
Drink  to  Bacchus  debonair, 
Drink  the  nectar,  ruby  glowing, 

From  the  fountain  ever  flowing, 
At  Diana's  charmed  well, 
Fill  your  flagons  to  the  brim, 
Here's  to  nymph  and  dryad  trim, 
Hark!    I  hear  their  laughter  ringing; 
Hark!    I  hear  their  voices  singing 
Round  Diana's  charmed  well, 

\_All  commence  to  dance* 

Round  and  round,  hand  in  hand; 

[245] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Faster,  faster,  merry  band; 
Dip  it,  sip  it,  trip  it,  skip  it, 
Step  fantastic,  antic  frantic. 

[fTbe  dance  grows  wilder  and  wilder. 

Ha!   ha!    The  charm  has  worked! 

[PAN  uns lings  his  pipes  and  plays  the  tune  wildly. 
'The  Hunters  dance  madly ,  reeling  and  turning 
and,  enticed  by  PAN'S  piping,  disappear  in  the 
bowers.  ORION  remains.  He  tries  to  resist  the 
music. 

ORION 

Thou  hound  of  Pluto,  with  what  concoction  vile 
Have  we  been  drugged  ?    I  am  not  done  with  thee. 

[fries  to  come  forward ',  but  staggers  back  when  PAN 
plays  upon  his  reeds. 

ORION  (angrily) 

Arrest  your  squealing  reeds!    They  split  mine  ears! 

Hear  me — I  am  not  done!  .  .  . 

I  shall  return.  ...  I  shall  return.  .  .  . 

[He  disappears  in  one  of  the  bowers.  PAN  turns  to 
the  statue  and  kneels. 

PAN  (singing) 

My  prayer  is  heard; 

I  thank  thee,  goddess  undefiled. 

Thy  guiding  hand 

With  love  protects  each  wayward  child. 

With  contrite  heart 

I  kneel  before  thy  form  benign, 

To  pledge  anew 

My  faith  in  thee,  sweet  nymph  divine. 

[246] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

(rising) 

My  prayer  is  heard ; 
I  thank  thee,  goddess  undefiled. 

The  myriad  stars 

That  burn  with  pure  celestial  flame, 

Diana  fair. 

Reflect  the  glory  of  thy  name. 

Bid  me  proclaim 

To  far  Parnassus'  lofty  height 

The  joy  that  fills 

The  heart  of  Pan  with  new  delight. 

[He  ceases  singing  and  speaks. 
Discordant,  brutal.    Strife  is  fled  the  scene, 
And  Peace  resumes  her  customed  dignity. 
Triumphant  Day  now  sheathes  his  flaming  sword; 
The  shadows  stretch  their  length  upon  the  earth, 
And  sentinels  of  stars  will  soon  begin 
Their  rounds  upon  the  ramparts  of  the  night. 

[The  music  of  the  Dance  of  the  Nymphs  begins  very 
softly. 

I  feel  the  pulse  of  gentle  harmonies ; 

Rhythms  that  faintly  fall  upon  the  ear. 

Music,  thou  solace  from  Elysium! 

Thou  proof  divine  of  immortality! 

Now  is  the  hour  when  Chloris  and  her  train 

Come  hither  for  their  nightly  carnival. 

I  will  away  to  where  Zephyrus  waits. 

The  noble  boy,  to  nobler  manhood  grown, 

Hath  far  surpassed  his  mother's  fondest  hopes. 

Desert  me  not,  sweet  goddess  Dian, 

For  I  am  still  thy  faithful  Pan. 

[The  music  of  the  Dance  of  the  Nymphs  is  now  heard 
more  distinctly  and  a  company  of  Nymphs,  clad 
in  filmy,  flowing  garments,  appear  and  dance. 

[247] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

After  a  little ',  some  of  the  Nymphs  dance  into  one 
of  the  bowers  and  reappear  with  CHLORIS  in  their 
midst,  surrounded  by  little  Fauns.  She  is  dressed 
more  richly  than  the  other s>  in  golden  draperies. 
As  she  enters^  the  Nymphs  weave  garlands  of 
roses  and  ribbons  of  flowers  around  her.  Finally 
she  kneels  in  front  of  the  statue  of  Diana,  and  the 
Nymphs  shower  her  with  flowers.  During  the 
latter  part  of  the  dance  the  voices  of  children  are 
heard  singing  softly  in  the  distance. 

VOICES  OF  CHILDREN 

Chloris  and  Phoebe's  train 

In  the  moonlight  coyly  dancing ; — 

Venus  will  search  in  vain 

For  a  picture  more  entrancing. 

Nimbly  their  dainty  feet 

Tread  the  captivating  measure ; 

Faces  and  hearts  replete 

With  the  music's  thrilling  pleasure. 

Chloris,  sweet  nymph,  arise, 

While  we  crown  thee,  fairest  flower, 

Crown  thee  with  Flora's  prize — 

Flora,  queen  of  Phoebe's  bower. 

\ffhe  dance  and  the  singing  have  continued  for  some 
time  when  PAN  and  ZEPHYRUS  appear,  ^hey 
speak  during  the  singing  which  is  always  heard 
as  from  a  distance. 

PAN 

Look,  boy,  where  beauty  on  perfection  waits, 
And  each  outshines  the  other's  estimate. 
This  is  the  fillet,  crown,  the  coronet 
Of  Phoebe's  handiwork.    The  rarest  gem 

[248] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

From  India,  faceted  to  multiply 
And  yield  its  myriad  iridescent  hues, 
Would  pale  with  envy  before  this  diadem. 
Art  pleased,  my  lad  ? 

ZEPHYRUS 

Pleased  ?    I  am  enchanted. 

What  is  she  ?    Who  is  she  ?    And  whence  cometh  she  ? 

PAN 

She?    Thou  hast  a  choice  already! 

ZEPHYRUS 
I  see  but  one  and  only  one. 

PAN 

Which  one  ? 

ZEPHYRUS 

The  one  who,  clad  in  golden  drapery, 
Rivets  the  adoration  of  the  others. 

PAN 

'T  is  Chloris  fair,  and  her  attendant  train 
Coming  to  vest  their  vernal  choice  as  queen 
And  crown  her,  Flora,  goddess  bountiful. 

ZEPHYRUS 
My  soul!    Such  beauty  is  not  of  this  earth. 

PAN 

Speak  to  her. 

ZEPHYRUS 
Speak  ?    I  dare  not,  my  voice  would  frighten  her. 

PAN 

She  is  a  woman.    If  I  mistake  me  not, 

[249] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

She  will  prefer  the  horror  of  thy  voice 
Than  that  her  charms  win  no  encomium. 

(aside) 
Ah,  me.    The  prudishness  of  untried  youth! 

(aloud) 
Speak,  thou  fuzzy  fledgling,  thou  downy  boy. 

[PAN  gently  pushes  ZEPHYRUS  forward.  Music  is 
beard,  and  PAN  tiptoes  to  one  side  with  finger 
on  lips. 

PAN  (aside) 

Now  is  the  spell  complete.    I'll  leave  the  rest 
To  beauty,  youth  and  nature's  craftiness. 

[He  goes  out. 

ZEPHYRUS  (singing) 

Fairest  of  Diana's  train, 
Bid  me  not  to  ask  in  vain 
For  some  favor  in  thine  eyes, 
Where  the  light  of  heaven  lies. 

When  thy  beauty  I  behold, 
Tell  me  not  I  am  too  bold, 
If  I  dare  disclose  my  heart 
Bruised  by  wound  of  Cupid's  dart. 

Flora,  Flora,  list  my  prayer ; 
'Neath  the  starry  night  I  swear 
All  my  soul  in  longing  cries 
For  some  favor  in  thine  eyes, 
For  one  glimpse  of  Paradise. 
Flora,  Flora,  list  my  prayer. 

In  the  mazes  of  the  dance 
How  thy  dainty  feet  entrance; 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

Flitting  like  a  fairy  sprite 
Mid  the  shadows  of  the  night. 

Be  thou  fairy,  nymph  or  maid, 
Lovely  vision  of  the  glade, 
Willing  captive  to  thy  spell, 
Let  me  in  thy  favor  dwell. 

All  my  soul  in  longing  cries 

For  some  favor  in  thine  eyes, 

For  one  glimpse  of  Paradise. 

Flora,  Flora,  list  my  prayer. 

[ZEPHYRUS  at  the  end  of  his  song  is  kneeling  to 
CHLORIS,  now  FLORA.  She  is  standing  directly 
in  front  of  the  statue  of  Diana,  her  arms  filled 
with  long-stemmed  roses ,  a  circlet  of  poppies  on 
her  head.  All  the  Nymphs  have  retreated  into 
bowers  during  the  song,  where  they  are  half-seen 
in  the  shadows.  FLORA  drops  her  flowers  and 
holds  out  both  hands  to  ZEPHYRUS. 

FLORA 

Arise;  it  is  not  meet  for  thee  to  kneel, 

For  art  thou  not  a  man — the  brave  Zephyrus  ? 

[ZEPHYRUS  kisses  her  hand. 

ZEPHYRUS 
How  dost  thou  know  my  name  and  who  I  am  ? 

FLORA 

Only  thy  name  is  whispered  in  the  trees 

When  zephyrs  gently  blow  from  out  the  west; 

Only  thy  name  is  wafted  by  the  rose 

Whose  fragrance  with  thy  balmy  breath  commingles. 

Have  I  not  known  thee  since  the  dawn  of  time  ? 

Thou  art  the  western  wind. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
ZEPHYRUS 

Thou  art  the  rose. 

[  'They  are  seated  in  front  of  and  at  the  base  of  the 
statue ',  facing  each  other  and  looking  into  each 
other  s  eyes.  ORION  breaks  through  one  of  the 
bowers.  He  is  in  brutal  mood. 

ORION 

What  ho!    Here  is  fresh  meat,  a  young  gazelle; 
A  beauty,  too.    Stand  back,  thou  puny  stripling. 

[ZEPHYRUS  steps  to  one  side;  FLORA  crouches  at  the 
base  of  the  statue,  covering  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Come  not  betwixt  Orion  and  his  sport. 

\_At  Ms  moment  screams  are  heard  from  the  bowers, 
and  Hunters  are  dimly  seen  each  holding  a 
Nymph  in  his  embrace. 

ZEPHYRUS 
Goddess  of  chastity,  lend  me  thine  aid! 

[ORION  and  ZEPHYRUS  rush  together;  ORION  throws 
ZEPHYRUS  off  easily  and  draws  his  hunting 
knife.  ZEPHYRUS  recovers  himself  and  stands 
between  ORION  and  FLORA. 

ORION 

Come,  my  hungry  blade,  let  us  sniff  some  blood! 

[ORION  rushes  at  ZEPHYRUS  with  uplifted  knife. 
'There  is  a  heavy  roll  of  thunder.  The  arrow  flies 
from  Diana's  bow  and  ORION  staggers,  falls  and 
dies.  Hunters,  rushing  from  the  bowers,  fall  to 
their  knees  and  point  at  the  statue.  One  among 
them  cries,  "The  arrow  hath  pierced  his  heart!" 
The  music  turns  to  a  dirge.  Four  Hunters  take 
ORION  on  their  shoulders  and  slowly  carry  him 

[252] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

up  the  bill.  ZEPHYRUS  and  FLORA  kneel  for  a 
moment  before  the  statue.  The  motive  of  the 
Dance  of  the  Nympbs  is  again  beard  and  voices 
are  heard  singing  the  chorus  that  accompanied 
the  dance.  ZEPHYRUS  and  FLORA  arise.  Nymphs 
enter  timidly  and,  forming  a  group  around 
them>  they  all  slowly  disappear  into  the  bowers 
as  the  music  dies  away.  It  is  now  full  moon- 
light. PAN  enters,  playing  very  softly  on  his 
pipes.  He  goes  up  to  the  statue  and  sits  at  its 
base. 

PAN 

Death  is  a  farce  and  follies  are  momentous 

In  Jove's  predestined  universal  scheme. 

What  is  the  carcass  of  the  lion  but  stuff 

Wherewith  to  fructify  the  violet  ? 

Thus  do  the  spheres  themselves  revolve  in  space 

To  hum  a  melody  for  wanton  lovers. 

To-day  between  two  youths  a  spark  has  struck 

That  will  illume  the  empyrean  limits. 

The  worlds  await  the  union  of  their  seed. 

Fear  not,  the  great  command  will  be  obeyed: 

Life  ever  hath  its  genesis  in  debt, 

That  needs  be  paid  in  coin  from  nature's  mint: 

And  so  the  ages  bear  their  labor  pains. 

So  far — so  good. 

[PAN  gradually  falls  asleep  at  the  base  of  the  statue ', 
while  the  theme  of  Diana  rises  in  a  climax. 


INTERMEZZO— "THE  DREAM  OF  PAN" 


I>53] 


ACT  III 

The  scene  is  same  as  in  Act  I.  ¥he  music  intimates  a 
return  of  the  storm,  interrupted  with  fragments  of  the  Dance 
of  the  Harpies.  ASTR^EUS  is  discovered  at  the  mouth  of  the 
cave,  with  folded  arms  and  head  bowed.  At  his  feet,  spread 
out  on  the  hillside,  is  NICOTHOE. 

ASTR^EUS 

Ten  years  have  limped  their  course,  like  convicts  chained, 

Dragging  my  heart  in  shackles  after  them. 

Our  thunders'  heavy  bulk,  our  hurricanes, 

Our  lightning  bolts  and  tumbling  avalanche, 

Have  written  failure  on  the  earthy  slates. 

The  howling  winds  weep  failure  in  our  ears  : 

The  sum  of  all  our  power  is  loneliness. 

Storm  Music  rises  and  falls. 


Be  still,  ye  myrmidons,  we'll  try  no  more. 
Now  would  I  pledge  an  hemisphere  of  storms 
To  win  them  back  again,  my  wife  and  son. 

[NICOTHOE  cackles  in  grief. 

ASTR^EUS 

Go  to,  thou  scavenger!    May  all  thy  brood 
Gorge  in  each  other's  blood  like  cannibals 
And  rid  the  world  of  putrid  pestilence! 

NICOTHOE  (rising) 

Stay  your  epithets  and  curses, 
Hear  me  speak. 

[254] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

Not  upon  your  faithful  harpies 
Vengeance  seek. 

All  the  farthest  forest  confines 
Did  we  scan 

Till  we  found  thy  boy  and  Eos 
Led  by  Pan. 

In  one  cloud  we  hovered  o'er  them, 
Poised  in  flight; 

When  the  pipes  of  Pan  forbade  us 
To  alight. 

Played  a  melody  infernal 

In  our  ear. 

Filled  the  air  with  mocking,  laughing. 

Fiendish  jeer. 

Bade  us  whirl  like  brainless  boobies 
Round  and  round, 

While  with  glee  he  rolled  and  tumbled 
On  the  ground. 

Then  he  shouted:   "Come  but  nearer 
And  you  die. 

I  am  master  of  the  woodland, 
Backward  fly." 

Times  unnumbered  have  we  striven 

To  regain 

Eos  and  the  boy  Zephyrus ; 

All  in  vain. 

\_Sbe  sinks  down  again  in  despair. 

ASTR^US 

What  force  contends  with  our  authority? 
What  is  this  music  damned  you  rave  about  ? 
Are  piping  reeds  and  scraping  guts  to  sway 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

And  rule  the  elements  against  our  will  ? 

By  Vulcan  and  his  bellows!    We  shall  forge 

A  syrinx  worthy  of  a  titan's  blast 

And  crack  the  globe  in  one  vast  dissonance! 

[The  pipes  of  PAN  are  heard  in  the  distance.  Nico- 
THOE  partly  rises,  listens,  shudders  and,  cack- 
ling in  fear,  falls  down  again.  ACHOLOE,  another 
Harpy,  rushes  in  and  falls  prostrate  near  Nico- 
THOE. 

ACHOLOE 
Master,  she  comes,  she  comes! 

ASTR^EUS 
Who  comes  ?    Speak  out,  thou  messenger  of  hell ! 

ACHOLOE 
Thy  wife,  and  in  her  train  a  multitude. 

ASTR^EUS 

Roll  back  the  murky  clouds!    Shine  forth,  O  sun! 
And  clothe  the  world  in  holiday  attire! 
Out  of  my  sight,  ye  garbage-eating  vermin. 

[NICOTHOE  and  ACHOLOE  slink  away. 

Now  let  resplendent  beauty  flood  the  scene! 

(aside) 

O  heart,  O  withered  heart,  I  feel  the  sap 
Beneath  thy  bark  stir  with  another  spring. 

[The  music  of  PAN'S  prologue  is  heard.  Eos  ap- 
pears at  the  top  of  the  hill;  on  her  left  is  ZEPHY- 
RUS,  on  her  right,  FLORA.  PAN  is  seen  in  front 
of  the  others.  The  music  ceases. 

[256] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

ASTR^US  (looking  up,  transfixed) 
Eos !    Thief  of  my  soul !    My  truant  love ! 

Eos 

Astraeus,  mighty  sovereign  of  the  winds ; 

Behold,  I  am  returned,  bringing  Zephyrus, 

But  not  to  do  thy  bidding  with  the  boy. 

Our  elder  sons  on  hate  were  weaned  and  taught 

Destruction  was  to  be  their  field  of  labor. 

Not  so  this  pearl  of  my  maturity. 

I  stole  the  jewel  ere  it  was  encrusted, 

And  set  my  treasure  where  it  might  reflect 

The  glowing  radiance  of  all  the  virtues. 

We  found  a  land  unbound  by  battlements 

Or  limitations  fixed  to  affront  the  eye, 

A  very  haven  of  beatitude 

Wherein  we  bode  in  calm  security. 

One  law  supreme  holds  sway  in  this  domain: 

That  law  which  bids  the  velvet  bud  to  ope 

And  catch  the  fleeting  colors  of  the  dawn ; 

That  same  great  law  which  holds  the  pendent  globes 

In  rhythmic  swing  through  spaces  infinite; — 

The  universal  law  of  harmony. 

Wisdom  I  found  confided  to  a  fool, 

A  trusty  of  the  deities'  deep  designs. 

He  played  a  strain  upon  his  trivial  pipes, 

A  filmy  gossamer  of  melody 

Spun  from  the  music  of  the  spheres ;  and  yet 

It  swayed  the  counter  currents  of  the  air, 

It  sheared  discordant  strife  of  all  its  strength, 

And  swept  your  legions  to  oblivion. 

The  voice  of  harmony  is  the  voice  of  god. 

ASTR^US  (aside) 

Her  words  unfold  a  mystery,  but  her  voice 
With  new  enchantment  thrills  my  lonely  heart. 

[257] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 
Eos 

Zephyrus  has  been  reared  in  fair  Arcadia, 
Where  all  things  animate,  in  full  accord 
With  Mother  Nature,  dwell  in  happiness. 
His  ripening  years  now  show  our  handiwork, 
By  aid  divine,  to  full  perfection  brought. 
In  all  due  time  there  came  the  consummation 
Of  that  vast  plan  which  rules  the  universe. 
Chloris,  the  fairest  nymph  of  Artemis 
Was  shrined  as  Flora,  goddess  bountiful. 
Youth  and  Beauty  looked  in  each  other's  eyes; 
It  was  designed  by  Zeus  their  souls  should  mate; 
Eons  ago  the  sacred  flame  was  lit 
Upon  the  altar  of  their  destiny. 
With  joy  I  gave  the  sanction  of  their  troth, 
Dedicating  their  union  with  the  pledge 
That  he  should  be  the  god  of  gentle  winds, 
And  Flora,  goddess  bountiful,  his  wife. 
Before  thee  thus  they  stand  and  all  the  world ! 

ASTR^US 

But  how  about  thyself?    Thou  art  my  wife 
In  union  wed  on  high  Olympus  front. 

Eos 

I  know  full  well  the  penalty  ordained 

For  disobediance  to  my  marriage  vow: 

Yet  here  I  do  renounce  and  waive  all  claim, 

Immortal  and  divine,  to  take  the  doom 

Of  punishment  within  the  lower  world, 

Unless,  Astraeus,  thou  wilt  give  consent 

Unto  this  union  and  cement  the  pledge 

That  naught  but  zephyrs  through  these  forest  trees 

Shall  play,  and  naught  but  plenty  fill  the  lap 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

Of  every  harvest  season  in  our  land. 
Unite  with  me  as  warrant  to  my  vow 
And  I  will  reunite  with  thee,  thy  wife. 

[Eos  and  those  with  her  make  gestures  of  supplica- 
tion. ASTR^EUS  bows  his  head.  Distant  thunder 
is  heard,  and  the  cackle  of  Harpies  from  afar. 

ASTR^US  (aside) 
Peace,  peace,  unhappy  harbingers  of  ill. 

\He  pauses  in  meditation, 
(vigorously) 

My  love  for  thee  is  greater  than  my  hate, 
Thou  art  the  better  half  of  all  my  life ; 
Thy  voice  hath  conquered  me.    I  give  the  pledge. 
Eos,  beloved,  come! 

Eos 

I  come,  Astraeus, 

Willingly  thy  wife,  but  Eos  no  longer. 

Behold  Aurora,  daughter  of  the  dawn ! 

\_A  faint  glow  of  dawn  surrounds  Eos,  now  AURORA. 
Trumpet  calls  are  heard  and  PAN,  followed  by 
AURORA,  holding  ZEPHYRUS  and  FLORA  by 
either  hand^  leads  a  procession  of  the  Nymphs 
down  the  hillside.  The  Harpies  perch  on  crags 
in  the  distance.  The  Hunters  and  Fauns  enter 
from  the  forest  below  the  hillside. 

HUNTERS  (singing) 

All  hail,  fair  goddess  of  the  morn ! 

All  hail,  Aurora  newly  born! 

The  golden  shafts  that  strike  from  tree  to  tree 

Proclaim  to  all  the  world  our  victory. 

Let  high  Olympus  hear  our  voice! 

l>59] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

Bid  all  the  gods  with  us  rejoice. 
All  hail,  fair  goddess  of  the  morn ! 

FAUNS  (singing) 

To  thee,  Arcadia's  lord,  we  pray: 
Receive  thy  due,  this  wreath  of  bay, 
Hail,  master  of  the  woodland  clan ; 
Long  be  thy  reign,  O  great  god,  Pan ! 

ALL 

Bestow  thy  benediction,  mighty  Jove, 
Upon  thy  children  in  this  grove. 
Diana,  guide  our  wandering  steps  aright; 
Illume  our  path  with  virgin  light. 

[ASTR^US  awaits  AURORA,  ZEPHYRUS  and  FLORA, 
who,  when  they  reach  him,  kneel.  Bidding  them 
rise,  ASTR^EUS  joins  the  hands  of  ZEPHYRUS  and 
FLORA.  He  then  embraces  AURORA  and  leads 
her  up  the  hillside  to  the  mouth  of  the  cave,  leaving 
ZEPHYRUS  and  FLORA,  surrounded  by  all  the 
Nymphs,  Hunters  and  Fauns.  PAN  stands  on 
the  lower  hillside  and  all  turn  toward  him. 

PAN  (singing) 

Now  have  we  joined  within  this  scene 
Two  youths  of  godly  origin. 
A  pair  bestowed  by  heavenly  love. 
As  tender  hostage  to  this  grove. 
Accept  my  penance,  mighty  Jove; 
Give  me  thy  blessing  from  above. 

[PAN'S  deformities  miraculously  disappear  and  he 
stands  forth  perfect  in  body.  All  fall  to  their 
knees  before  him  as  the  hillside  is  bathed  in  a 
brilliant  illumination. 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 
ALL 

All  hail !    great  master  of  our  clan ; 

All  hail  to  thee,  the  great  god.  Pan ! 

The  golden  shafts  that  strike  from  tree  to  tree 

Proclaim  to  all  the  world  thy  victory. 

Let  high  Olympus  hear  our  voice; 

Bid  all  the  gods  with  us  rejoice. 

All  hail  to  thee,  the  great  god,  Pan! 


NOTE  ON  THE  MUSIC 

BY  HENRY  HADLEY 


THE  PRANKISH  disposition  and  foolish  deviltry  of  Pan 
are  indicated  at  the  very  beginning  by  the  following 
theme: 


The  fact  that  he  is  imbued  with  some  lofty  ambition  is 
expressed  as  follows: 


1  riff  3      ..     . 

3 

~^  —  i 

—  r-?n 

-iT^ 

£Afc>\C>5 

^ 

'j- 

T-  tl£f 

'i 

li 

-r*n 

%  u-     i 

J.    U     i 

a£  

He  comes  with  swinging  stride  through  the  woods: 


There  is  a  tone  of  sadness  in  his  pipes: 


[263] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


He  emerges  from  the  thicket,  and,  after  declaiming  a 
portion  of  the  Prologue,  declaims  in  song  the  great  am- 
bition that  stirs  his  heart: 


a 


* 


»± 


This  number,  diverted  with  one  or  two  sub-themes,  rises 
in  climacteric  form  to  a  finale — the  realization  of  his 
prayer: 


f^ 

^  j 

£  0, 

-/> 

- 

J  —  1 

^xce<> 
1 

c)   ^o 

p. 

L<r 

3E 

i 

<n^C/  x» 

^ 

4>   /wc€£ 

^f- 

5 

j 

|f=r 

> 

lg 

?  ;jl  J 

i 

*^ 

Ljuu^ 

|*^ 

^ 

-^—  N 

The  Prologue  ended,  the  play  now  begins.    The  boy, 
Zephyrus,  chases  a  butterfly  in  the  morning  sun: 


[264] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

The  innocence  and  trust  of  the  child  are  shown  in  his 
reply  to  Pan,  who  has  asked  him  if  he  is  not  afraid: 


This  motive  is  repeated  in  duet  form  between  the  two, 
the  Arcadian  deity  being  completely  won  over  by  the 
perfect  faith  of  Zephyrus  in  the  goodness  of  the  world. 
Still  again  it  echoes  through  the  woods  when  Pan  leads 
the  boy  and  his  mother,  Eos,  from  the  gloomy  surround- 
ings of  their  cavern  home  toward  Arcadia. 

The  scene  darkens,  and  with  threatening  storm  the  ap- 
proach of  Astraeus,  the  Father  of  the  Winds,  is  heard: 


He  calls  upon  his  harpies  to  appear.    They  rush  upon 
the  scene  to  a  weird  and  grewsome  dance: 


8\ 

KV 

> 

p| 

*jr* 

t  •'' 

k*^"f!tf  F 

fbr 

^j- 

f^" 

'Jtftj 

Cp  \>   & 

* 

tlf 

, 

L> 

ir^H- 

p 

,     r    > 

LLij^L 

|i—  L 

n 

t- 

^     r    ! 

He  bids  them  go  forth  and  bring  back  his  wife  and  son. 
They  fly  at  his  command,  and  Astraeus  reenters  the  cave 
at  the  height  of  the  storm. 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


* 


I 


F= 

The  intermezzo  played  by  the  orchestra  between  the 
first  and  second  acts  opens  with  a  vigorous  horn  call,  sup- 
ported by  rough,  short  chords  in  the  strings,  suggesting 
the  approach  of  Orion,  the  Mighty  Hunter. 


I 


A  short  connecting  link  then  ushers  in  the  theme  of 
Diana,  employed  in  several  places  throughout  the  second 
scene: 


*& 


Pi 


TF 


£ 


ffpf 


At  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  the  approach  of 
Orion  and  his  hunters  is  heard  in  the  forest: 

[266] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

C\vCca%o  xxnv  ^xur 


They  fill  the  vale  of  Diana  with  their  hunting  song: 

QJL£&Qj\ff' 


m 


m 


t±* 


mm 


m 


Orion  enters  to  the  music  of  the  intermezzo,  illustrated 
above.  The  jovial  Silenus  is  welcomed,  and  gives  vent  to 
his  love  of  the  grape: 


Pan  is  discovered  by  the  hunters,  asleep  in  the  sun,  at 
the  base  of  the  statue  of  Diana.  He  awakens  and,  spring- 
ing to  his  feet,  rails  at  the  hairy  intruders  for  daring  to 
desecrate  the  sacred  spot: 


dcac 


•  A,« 


fac 


mr    I? 


1 


[267] 


^ 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

He  espies  the  charmed  well  of  Diana,  and  invokes  its 
aid: 


j    ij.  >  n  * 


f  '1*1    'A     3     ff     t^  'i 


T 


All  fill  their  flagons,  and  Pan  bids  them  drink  to  Aph- 
rodite: 


The  nectar  courses  through  their  veins,  and  they  dash 
into  a  wild  revel,  while  Pan  plays  upon  his  pipes.  They 
cannot  resist  the  music,  and  he  drives  the  intruders  from 
the  scene,  as  they  reel  and  turn  to  the  mad  rhythm  of  the 
dance: 


i 


[«68] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 
Pan  kneels  in  thanksgiving  to  the  statue: 


The  day  has  waned,  and  moonlight — the  hour  of  Phoebe 
and  her  train — colors  the  scene.  Pan  leaves  in  search  of 
Zephyrus,  now  grown  to  manhood,  as  the  Dance  of  the 
Nymphs  pulsates  through  the  orchestra.  The  Dance  of 
the  Nymphs,  with  a  chorus  of  Fauns  heard  in  the  distance, 
employs  the  following  motives: 


f 

'J  '    r  •» 

4-r 

I 

•t  r 

JU 

/      tf,       ff        .<  

^  L  

[  |  3 

2  

-j  —  L 

[269] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


Iff,  m 


<  i 


The  dance  reaches  a  climax  on  the  crowning  of  Chloris 
as  Flora,  Goddess  Bountiful. 

Pan  returns  with  Zephyrus,  who  is  enraptured,  and  the 
nymphs  daintily  retreat  while  he  declares  his  infatuation 
for  Flora: 


te3E 


j     J     J 


5 


arts 


w 

'U*J 


Their  love  scene  is  rudely  interrupted  by  the  return  of 
Orion  in  brutal  mood. 

< — .  t» ,  rn — fr  i  rn — 'j? ,  j  01  ^^ 

K« — £ — J — I  ^  *  f — p — • — |4^*i — * — \-B-z — Pg'i    . 


Orion  draws  his  hunting-knife  and  rushes  upon  Zephy- 
rus, who  is  shielding  Flora  before  the  statue,  when  there 
is  a  crash  of  thunder;  the  arrow  flies  from  the  bow  of 
Diana  and  pierces  the  heart  of  Orion,  who  falls  dead  at 
the  base  of  the  statue. 

The  hunters  come  upon  the  scene  and  behold  the  mir- 
acle. They  lift  the  body  of  Orion  upon  their  shoulders 

[270] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 

and  bear  it  away;  the  music  merges  into  a  dirge,  the  muted 
horns  sounding  the  hunting-horn  theme  in  remote  har- 
monics: 


-e-^* 

tT 

t  i  . 

t  t 

n})  f^  ^  r 

f^- 

'  ^i'i1 

SB 

'U  I  i1 

ti  i  T1 

The  movement  of  the  dance  revives,  and  timidly  the 
nymphs  return  to  Flora ;  they  surround  her  and  Zephyrus, 
and,  weaving  garlands  around  them  both,  the  train  gently 
leads  the  two  into  the  forest,  leaving  the  scene  vacant  and 
flooded  in  moonlight.  Pan  returns  alone,  playing  softly 
upon  his  pipes ;  after  a  soliloquy,  he  falls  asleep  at  the  base 
of  the  statue,  while  the  theme  of  Diana  fades  away,  inter- 
mingled with  fragments  of  the  Hunter's  theme  and  Pan's 
theme. 


Another  intermezzo,  "The  Dream  of  Pan,"  is  played 
by  the  orchestra  between  the  second  and  third  acts: 


,   4^q^^, 

«|J]3?Llj 

i  **"*                     it  »     M  i 

•^ 

^•f  '          ~  r 

i  "    p  "     - 

hr  -  1 
[271] 

h     p  H    - 

THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 


rrrji  *  '  J  IJJ  | 

rTt  —  T   1  i  f  r    i 

tf  '   tj^  r  i 

: 

M   p    -   * 

-^-i^  —  IF 

^i  f. 

At  the  opening  of  the  third  act  there  is  heard  the  return 
of  the  Astraeus  motive,  admixed  with  sketches  of  the  Dance 
of  the  Harpies.  After  a  dialogue  between  Astraeus  and 
Nicothoe,  the  leader  of  the  Harpies,  the  pipes  of  Pan  are 
heard,  and  Pan,  Eos,  Zephyrus,  and  Flora  are  disclosed 
upon  the  mountainside  above  the  cave.  The  reunion  of 
Astraeus  and  Eos  (now  become  Aurora,  Daughter  of  the 
Dawn)  being  accomplished,  the  processional  takes  place 
down  the  mountainside;  the  basic  choral  is  as  follows: 


?db 


? — [^ 


tf 


Then  follows  a  paean  of  praise  to  Pan  by  the  bass  voices 

[272] 


THE  ATONEMENT  OF  PAN 


The  entire  chorus  gives  adoration  to  mighty  Jove: 


ll    1 1 


I    A          J 


- 


3W-&H/0'  *ty 


?  2>e 


«f" 


i=Fff=f 


A  tableau  of  reunion  takes  place  on  the  main  stage, 
whereupon  Pan,  in  lofty  strain,  implores  that  he  may  be 
freed  of  his  deformities;  the  same  leitmotif 'is  here  employed 
as  in  the  Prologue. 


A  great  light  now  shines  upon  Pan;  his  deformities 

[273] 


THE  GROVE  PLAYS  OF  THE  BOHEMIAN  CLUB 

disappear,  and  he  stands  before  them  all,  "a  perfect  child 
create  at  birth."  All  fall  to  their  knees  in  adoration,  lift- 
ing their  voices  in  a  mighty  hymn  of  praise  as  the  forest 
is  illuminated: 


i 


i 


i==i 


SHH 


•*», 


*«<•* 


3 


>OV 


dec 


ii« 


^ 


^ 


^ 


^ 


rr 


r  i  f     ^f.  4.^=pr 


[274] 


